


The Best of Times (Amnesiac Remix)

by OneOfThoseThings



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Aliens Fangirling over Donna, Awesome Donna Noble, Awesome Martha Jones, Comedy of Errors, F/M, Fix-It, Jack being Jack, Post-Episode AU: s04e13 Journey's End, Rating change for the last chapter, Slow Burn, You know how some fics are marked with a / when they should be an & well this is not that, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneOfThoseThings/pseuds/OneOfThoseThings
Summary: Donna doesn't remember saving the universe, but that doesn't mean the universe has forgotten.A mind-wiped Donna runs into Martha and gets some good old fashioned human help realizing her potential all over again. Word has gotten out through the twenty-seven planets she saved though, so there are a few more aliens following her around… including one very specific alien who really shouldn’t be there.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Donna Noble
Comments: 108
Kudos: 200





	1. (Re)Meeting Martha

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I originally wanted to write a story about aliens just following a mind-wiped Donna around, but that story was exceptionally dull so I started writing a different story where a very specific alien starts following her around, and now this is basically a story about how much All the Aliens like following Donna around. Which is basically canon.

The address Donna Noble’s temp agency gave her led to a building in the warehouse district. That seemed a bit odd, but the building itself seemed like a typical office building so she shrugged that off, assuming it must be some up-and-coming neighborhood project.

The man at the front desk became oddly flustered when she gave her name, but he let her through with just a bit more bumbling than usual. She did a quick check in the elevator to make sure her neckline hadn’t slipped, but nothing seemed to be out of place. So she shrugged that off as well. 

She was getting quite good at not thinking about things these days. 

Another young man met her at the elevators and brought her back through what seemed to be a labyrinth of labs. After she’d lost track of how many turns they’d taken, they came to a large room reminiscent of a bank vault with several openings that looked like sunlights, but couldn’t be given their location in the middle of the building. 

“Donna!” A pretty young black woman in a lab coat swept her into a hug. “You could have just called, you know. You didn’t have to go through the monitoring system.” 

Donna, who was nothing if not professional, patted her twice on the back and carefully disengaged herself. “Hello,” she said, “Donna Noble. Nice to meet you.” 

The woman frowned, cocking her head. “Is everything all right?” She flicked a look at the young man who’d escorted Donna in. “Ah. Gillespe. Thank you for showing Donna in. I can take it from here.” 

“Dr. Jones.” Gillespe snapped off a salute, and then, for no reason, gave Donna one as well. “Donna Noble. It’s an honor to meet you,” he said.

Donna returned the gesture somewhat awkwardly. “Er― you as well.”

He flashed a smile that made him look sixteen and scarpered off. 

“Right then!” Dr. Jones (apparently) started back in as soon as the door swung closed, “Just us now. Are you looking into something? Is the Doctor here? He’d better not be messing about with any of my labs! It took me six months to undo those ‘safety precautions’ he snuck in the last time!” She ushered Donna over to a desk and started pressing buttons on a machine that produced a cup of coffee. 

“Right…” Donna said, “I think you might have me confused with someone else. I’m your 10AM interview. Donna Noble.” 

Dr. Jones gave her a confused, exasperated look. “Donna, there’s no way this room is bugged. We check for that sort of thing.”

Donna decided to just shake all of that off and try to get the interview back on track. “Dr. Jones, it might help if we started with the basics like what you’re looking for help with.”

The other woman’s expression shifted from confused to concerned. “Donna, is everything all right? I know it’s been a while. Well, actually― how long has it been for you?”

Donna realized that _she_ might actually be the one behaving strangely. “Ah. This is… I’m not quite sure how to ask this. Have we met before? I’ve been having some minor issues with my memory lately.”

Dr. Jones went very stiff. “You don’t remember me? Martha Jones. UNIT. Used to travel with the Doctor?”

Donna rubbed her temple. “Sorry, I should probably― I don’t normally mention it in professional contexts, you know― But I have a few… gaps… in my memory from the past year or so. No problems going forward though,” she hastened to add. 

Martha frowned, eyes glued to where she was absently rubbing her head. “Did something happen? What did the Doctor say?”

Donna shrugged. “It’s not really that big of a deal. The doctors said it doesn’t seem to be affecting anything. Must have just been a freak sort of accident thing.”

Martha frowned even harder. “No, not doctor _s_ , _the_ Doctor,” she emphasized the ’s’ and ‘the’ like those were important. “What did the Doctor say about it? Is he working on it?” 

Donna’s headache increased. “Sorry― not really sure what―“ she tried to refocus, “Would you mind if we didn’t talk about it? I don’t really have any helpful answers.”

“Donna,” Martha said slowly, “Do you not remember the Doctor?”

Her headache spiked and she hissed. “Sorry, I suddenly have the strangest headache.” 

Martha was already in front of her, pushing her back in her chair, flashing a pen light in her eyes. “Pupils responsive, no lag in tracking,” she pressed two fingers to her wrist. “Heart rate elevated, but not out of range…” She shifted her grip to her shoulders. “Just focus on breathing, yeah?” 

Donna batted her away, embarrassed. “It’s just a headache, really.” She tried to get up, but Martha pressed her back gently but firmly. 

“Can I run a quick scan?” Martha asked. “Just to check. I’m an actual doctor, you know. And you might not remember it, but we’re friends.” 

For such a petite woman, Martha was surprisingly hard to fight off. Donna found herself bustled down the corridor for a scan by some machine that looked like it belonged in Star Trek. 

“Have to say, this is one of the strangest interviews I’ve ever been in,” she commented idly. 

Martha made a strange sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh. “Feel free to report me. I’d love to hear HR’s take on the appropriate course of action here.” She tapped through screens, muttering.

After a few minutes of that, she cleared her throat. “Donna, this is going to sound a bit strange, but could you try to remember where you know me from?”

Donna sighed, “I told you, I don’t―“

“You were with the Doctor the last time I saw you,” Martha interrupted. “Could you try to remember the last time you saw the Doctor?”

“Yeah, funny you should mention it― about 10 minutes ago a doctor put me in this weird scanner and―“

“Not _a_ doctor. _The_ Doctor,” Martha cut her off again, adding the same strange emphasis. “You used to know him. That’s his name― the Doctor.”

“That’s not a _name_ ―“ Donna’s headache started up again. 

“Aha!” Martha started clicking around more actively. “That’s perfect!”

“Fantastic,” Donna said through gritted teeth.

Martha continued rustling around. “OK, never mind all that now. Try telling me something you did this week.”

“Went out for a coffee on my way in this morning,” Donna said. “How’s that?” 

“Perfect!” After a few more clacks, Martha reappeared in her range of vision. “The good news is you’re stable,” she said, pulling Donna loose. 

“See now the way you phrased that makes me think there might be some not-so-good news coming.”

Martha plastered on a polite professional expression. “Were you in an accident?” 

Donna frowned. “Yeah, that’s what they tell me. No bruises or scrapes or anything though― just a sort of fuzzy gap in my memory. Why? Am I bleeding into my brain or something?” 

“No, but it's odd...” Martha pulled her over and swung her screen around so that Donna could see what she assumed from context was the inside of her own head. “You see these bits where things are darker?” She gestured to what seemed to be arbitrary points. “If you’d been hit by something those would be clustered together, but instead they’re just sort of mixed in. I’m not actually sure what would cause something like that, but well...” She gave her a quick look out of the corner of her eye, “You are working with special circumstances…” 

“How do you mean?” Donna squinted at the screen, trying to make heads or tails of the colors. 

Martha sat back. “It’s… hard to explain. And it seems that trying to remember makes… whatever it is worse…” She trailed off, frowning at the screen. 

“Well,” Donna said, “As much fun as this has been, I think I might―“

“Right!” Martha sat up, refocusing, “Sorry― I do actually know how weird this must seem. First things first, let’s get your paperwork in order. I have to be in Cardiff tomorrow, but you’ll probably need most of the day to get all the proper IDs and bioclearance anyway.”

Donna started to get a new headache entirely unrelated to her memory loss. “What are you talking about?” 

Martha cocked her head. “Well, you came in for an interview, right? Must mean you’re looking for a job. Pretty sure you’ll pass the background checks and reference screening,” she said, smiling like that was a hilarious thing to say. 

“Sorry, you’re saying that actually _was_ an interview? And now you’re offering me― What even is this job? You’ve never even said!” She crossed her arms to avoid flapping her hands. 

Martha’s smile turned slightly wry. “Consultant?” 

“Consulting on _what_?”

Martha gave her an enigmatic look. “I’m sure we’ll find something. Now,” she shepherded her through the door. “Let’s talk salary. It’s not quite private sector money, but we’re no public service branch either.”

Donna blinked at her. “Hang on, I haven’t actually accepted anything. You do realize this is bonkers, don’t you?”

Martha shrugged. “You’re forgetting― I’ve met you before. I know you like it a bit bonkers.” 

Donna decided it wouldn’t hurt to at least hear about the benefits package. 


	2. First Encounter (for the Second Time)

The Doctor was having a bad day. His neck was killing him, he’d singed his third favorite tie, and if he didn’t get up six flights of stairs in exactly three minutes, the UK was going to be 1,583 square kilometers smaller. 

He burst through the roof access with exactly twenty seven seconds to spare and ran right into the most important woman in the whole wide universe.

As plain as day― Donna Noble. 

“What on Earth are you doing up here?” she asked. 

“Donna, get away from here! There’s a―“

“Failing acetonic converter,” she finished for him, “I know. Good thing I was here.” She flipped a fountain pen in the air and caught it. “It’s perfectly safe now. Basically a high tech air purifier. Think I might take it with me, actually. See if it works on allergens. Now then...” She cocked her hip. “Who are you? And why do you know my name?”

_Right._

He stuffed that sting right back down and slapped on what he hoped was a neutral expression. Friendly, but neutral. Open to the idea of talking to her for hours uninterrupted. But in a neutral way. “Sorry about that― So rude of me. I’m John Smith.” 

“John Smith…” she repeated, eying him with the same blank expression from that last time in her mother’s kitchen. Her eyes passed over his face like it barely registered. He was nothing to her. Just a passing featureless figure. 

He stuffed his feelings on that down as well. “Right. Well. I was in the stairwell and I heard a noise and I thought ‘Oh, that doesn’t sound like a noise that should be coming from up here.’ So I followed it. And I was right! Because that machine shouldn’t be up here. And I was going to, y’know, fix it. But it looks like you already did that. How did you do that, by the way?” 

Donna winked ―winked!― and grinned. “Oh, did I forget to mention? I’m _brilliant_.” 

He felt himself grinning back.  He’d _missed_ her. 

“Would you… Could I help?” he asked. 

Donna laughed in his face. “What are you going to do, skinny boy? I’ll just have my friend come pick it up.” She flipped out her phone with one hand and made a vague shooing gesture with the other. “Don’t worry about it.” 

_A friend?_

“What friend?” 

_ Donna had friends that weren’t him?! _

She gave him a strange look and he tried to look slightly less intensely invested in her answer. 

“My partner.” She finished hitting buttons and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. “On the way now. In case you’re getting any ideas.” 

“Ideas?” he repeated blankly, trying to figure out where he’d stopped paying attention. Probably when she brought up this non-him friend that she suddenly had. “What ideas? Ideas about moving the converter? Because I did actually have a few.”

She cut him off, laughing, “Never mind, you moppet.” 

He smiled, but then remembered the more pressing matter at hand. “Who’s this partner?” 

“My partner at UNIT,” she said absently. Her pocket buzzed and she dug out her phone again. “Really, you can run along.” She made that shooing motion again. 

“UNIT?” he repeated. “How do you know about UNIT?” 

“Hard _not_ to know about UNIT with all these aliens running around London like it’s flipping Epcot,” she muttered. 

The Doctor stared, but she certainly didn’t seem to be burning. She actually seemed to be using most of her energy to lightly judge him. So at least her priorities were still unchanged. 

“Donna?” Martha Jones’ familiar voice rang out of the stairwell. 

“Out here!” Donna called back, “And I found a stray!” 

The Doctor laughed, just a little too high and a little too loud, but it didn’t matter because there was a flurry of movement and then Martha Jones appeared in front of him. 

“Doctor?!?” She, at least, seemed appropriately surprised. 

“That’s a strange way to introduce yourself,” Donna said, wryly. 

“John Smith,” the Doctor said, extending an awkward hand. 

Martha couldn’t seem to decide whether to gape at him or at Donna and her eyes seemed to get wider with every pass between them. 

“Martha?” Donna prompted, still not grabbing her head or doubling over or bursting into flames or doing any of the things she should have been doing.

Martha blinked, hard, and visibly decided on a course of action. “John! I remember now. What are you doing here?” She pulled a phone out of her pocket, just out of Donna’s line of vision. She pressed six buttons and a strange sound warbled up from the street below. “Oh, that’d be the motion alarm on the car.”

“I’m on it, I’m on it,” Donna said, like it was a regular occurrence. “Back in a tick.” She made her way into the stairwell. 

Martha watched her go and then ducked in, voice low. “Doctor, what are you doing here?!” 

“What am I― What are _you_ doing here?! Is Donna working for UNIT??” 

“Donna doesn’t remember you,” Martha said, slowly. “You know that, don’t you? I assumed you―“

He nodded, not wanting to hear her guess what he might have done. “Yes―“ he cleared his throat, “I had to erase her memories of me, of our travels. Everything. It was the only way for her mind to survive the metacrisis.” 

_That_ seemed to be news to Martha. “ _You_ did it? That’s awful! I wouldn’t have thought she’d agree to that...” She frowned in the direction of the stairwell. 

The Doctor couldn’t help it. He flinched. Just a little.

Martha not only caught it, she immediately jumped to the correct conclusion. “Oh my God― you did it without asking, didn’t you?” 

He tried to catch the second flinch, but she was already leaning back. “That’s― That’s _terrible_! Why would you take that from her?!”

“It was all connected!” he said, immediately on the defensive. He’d had this argument plenty of times with himself. “Anything we did together― anywhere we went― it all had to go! I had to lock the metacrisis energy away from her consciousness or her mind was going to burn!” He stumbled back a step, trying to get away from Martha’s horrified reaction. “She was going to _burn_ , Martha!” 

He could feel Martha staring, seeing him for all his shortcomings. Shame rolled in his stomach, but he’d long ago grown used to that too. 

“You should have told us,” she said, “I saw her name in an interview pool at UNIT and thought she was just trying to get in touch. Made it halfway through before I realized she wasn’t kidding. I just assumed there’d been some sort of accident…” 

He twitched a shoulder up and down. “There _was_ an accident.” 

“I know,” she said darkly, “I’ve seen her scans.”

He winced.

“She’s fine now though. Working for UNIT has its perks. A key one being access to some very progressive medical tech.”

“She can’t remember!” he insisted. “If she accesses those memories there’s no tech that can save her!” 

Martha looked doubtful. She’d never used to doubt him. He supposed that was his fault as well.

She sighed, “You never have learned to trust us, have you?” 

A faint shuffling sound echoed out of the stairwell, reminding them that Donna was only temporarily out of earshot.

Martha straightened up. “Well whatever you did, it seems like it worked. She’s fine. Just the occasional headache. So I guess you should go. If seeing you might―“ She cut off, shying away from even the suggestion that Donna could burn. “I guess you should go.” 

“Course.” He nodded briskly. “Course I should.” 

She crossed her arms, waiting. “Before she comes back. It’ll be easier that way.” 

“Right.” He scratched at a sideburn. “Well.” 

“Stop buying time,” she said firmly, but not unkindly. “You made your choice.” Her stern expression cracked a bit, threatening to turn pitying and he turned from that if nothing else. 

He took the fire escape, knowing he couldn’t be trusted to actually leave by the stairwell. 

At least he’d seen her again. That was all he’d wanted, once. It was more than he deserved. 

Martha watched him, looking guilty but determined. “Donna’s brilliant,” she offered. “We’re all better off with her here.” 

He nodded, eyes tracking toward the stairwell as he started to climb down. “Course she is. Better off with you as well.” He smiled tightly, only a little weak around the edges. “Thank you, Martha Jones.”

And with that, he was alone again. 


	3. Jack and the Abzorbaloffs

Donna tossed back her drink with a flourish and nearly snorted it out when Martha tried to do the same and ended up nearly toppling off her stool. 

An absurdly good looking man caught her around the waist. “Martha Jones, as I live and breathe.” He smiled winsomely and dipped her back instead of forward, sneaking a kiss that looked like it belonged on the cover of a bodice-ripper. 

Donna got a bit flustered just watching.

“Jack!” Martha giggled. “You’re a public menace!” 

He smiled wider, helping her back upright. “A public _service_ , you mean.” He turned his baby blue eyes to Donna. “Well, hard to compare to present company, but still.” He straightened up. “Donna Noble, what’s a gorgeous half Time Lord like you doing in a half dive like this?” 

Donna frowned, somehow even more flustered. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

Jack looked genuinely affronted by the idea that he wouldn’t have left a lasting impression. His mouth dropped open, but before he could respond, Martha pulled him down to whisper urgently in his ear. 

His brows snapped down and together. “What, _none_ of it?!” 

Donna coughed. “Right, so… Donna Noble. Pleased to re-meet you.”

“Captain Jack Harkness,” Jack said, automatically. 

Donna forged ahead. “So we all knew each other then? Martha, you could have said.” 

“It’s a bit hard to explain without triggering anything…” Martha said. Then, to Jack, “Whatever it is, it seems to get worse if she tries to remember.” 

“Well, what did the Doctor say― Ow!! What was _that_ for?!” Jack rubbed his shoulder where Martha had unceremoniously punched him. 

“What did I _just_ say about not triggering memories!?” Martha turned to Donna. “Pretend you didn’t hear that.” 

Donna had plenty of practice doing that. “Right… So… Another round then? I’m betting we can still work through all the important conversation topics like how and why Martha’s been hiding a handsome American from me.” 

Jack blinked and then grinned like a gorgeous cheshire cat. “I would also like to hear Martha explain that.” He waved the barman over.

* * *

Two drinks later, Donna was laughing so hard she genuinely thought she might make herself sick. 

“I’ll get the next round,” she offered, mainly to give herself a chance to run to the loo without having to announce it. 

She toddled off, still a bit unsteady, and narrowly avoided running into two portly men in bowler hats coming through the door. 

After a quick break (and perhaps a quick re-application of makeup, just in case), Donna made her way to the bar. The two men she’d nearly run into seemed to be arguing about something. 

“Within 10 meters!” the other said, slightly garbled, “No mistaking it!” 

They bumbled closer, and she pretended to be deeply interested in the list of upcoming musical acts for last April. 

A meaty hand clamped onto her elbow. “Excuse me, have you seen―“ The man cut off, looking surprised. 

“Oi!” She pulled her arm free. “Who d’you think you’re grabbing?” 

In an unexpected twist, both men actually looked chagrinned. 

“So sorry,” the one with slightly darker hair said. He seemed to be blushing around his jowls. “We did not recognize you.” 

She blinked, looking him over. Memory loss or no, it seemed hard to believe that she’d be able to forget people as… distinct as they looked. 

The man on the right coughed, his skin rippling slightly. “We have permits to be here, of course.”

Donna frowned. “I think you have me confused with someone. I’m not a copper.”

The man on the left looked embarrassed. “No, of course not. I would never imply such a thing. We’ll just be on our way.” He started to turn and then paused, digging in the inside of his coat, and producing an ornately pressed flower. “Please, accept a token of appreciation on behalf of Clom.”

Donna looked between him and the flower. “That’s, uh, quite all right. No harm done or anything.” 

“Please,” the other man said, “We could not show our faces at the Association if we returned without making an offering on their behalf.” 

“Right…” She gingerly took the flower. “Thank you,” she said. It was unexpectedly sturdy. A slight headache she hadn’t even really noticed suddenly cleared up. “It’s lovely,” she added.

The men smiled, jowls scrunching up, and hustled off. 

She put the flower in her pocket, picked up her drinks, and promptly forgot all about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I thought "I can describe an abzorbaloff well enough for people to guess what it is," but then I remembered no, I have no patience for that. So I just put it right in the chapter title.


	4. Second Encounter (for the Third Time)

Several months after his last trip to Earth, after a snowy expedition and one very questionable cold air balloon race, the Doctor found himself in 21st Century Cardiff, in need of a top up. 

He parked the TARDIS over the rift and headed out for a wander, taking a random route with no particular goal other than clearing his head. In the industrial district he started paying slightly more attention, if only because he always liked picking up junk. And Cardiff always had the finest junk. 

Focused on peering through shop windows, he almost missed the familiar redhead wedged in an alley, crouching by an access panel.

His hearts stuttered and clenched. It couldn’t be. 

No one tackled him to the ground and forced him away, so it was only natural to sneak closer. 

Just to make sure it was her. 

He wound his way over, juggling two rather opposing goals of not doing anything to attract her attention and trying to get a clear view of her face. Just as he’d almost managed the latter, she turned and startled, clearly not expecting anyone to be anywhere nearby. 

“So sorry, but this alley is currently closed to the―“ The practiced professional tone cut off as soon as she looked up. “Oh, it’s you!” 

The Doctor felt a guilty butterfly rattle through his ribcage. “Ah, yes. Hello again.” 

Donna settled back into doing… whatever she was doing. She seemed to be rewiring a control panel to run through a laptop. The faintly uneven hum of an uncommonly large generator came from just behind the wall. She flicked a glance up at him, with just the barest level of recognition. “John Smith, yeah? You left in a hurry the last time we met. Didn’t even say goodbye.” 

He supposed this must be what it would be like to meet Donna without being immediately accused of kidnapping her. She was… nice. Quite nice. 

He shook that off and tried to focus. “Ah. Right. I got a bit of a headache and Martha thought it was best if I went home immediately. Had a bit of a lie in. A mini restorative coma, if you will.”

She gave him another glance, more familiar for its combination of judgment and concern. “You what?”

“Never mind,” he said, quickly, “I’m, uh, sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

She shrugged, catching two wires between her fingers and stripping a third. “Doctor’s orders. Whatcha gonna do.”

He really shouldn’t get excited just hearing the word “doctor” come out of her mouth. It was just a noun. It meant nothing to her.

“Martha knows what she’s doing. She’s a fantastic resident.”

“Doctor,” Donna corrected automatically. 

The Doctor was not proud of the happy little thrill that went through him. 

Donna gave him another one of those not-quite-familiar-enough looks out of the corner of her eye. “Are you all right now?” 

He nodded absently, and then more vigorously, when that seemed to help clear his head a little. “Yep,” he popped, “Just a bit of a headache.” 

Donna looked him up and down and then turned unexpectedly sympathetic. “Headache, eh? I get those all the time.” She tapped her own temple absently.

The Doctor frowned. “You get headaches? Why?”

“You know it’s the strangest thing, but in spite of all my memos, the headaches don’t come with detailed backstories and instructions on how they can be avoided in the future.” She smiled that crooked smile that he remembered sometimes like worrying his tongue over a sore tooth. “How’s _your_ headache?” 

He coughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Oh fine. It’s fine. I’m fine.” 

She gave him a look. 

“No, you’re right. I should go. Go rest up.” He made exactly no effort to move. 

Her smile quirked up at the edge, taking a wry tilt. “Or you could stay for a bit. If you wanted.” 

He could tell by her tone that she knew that was exactly what he wanted and she was just offering to be kind. He’d missed that patented Donna Noble kindness. 

“Really though― are you _sure_ you’re all right?” She looked worried and he realized that whatever she was seeing on his face it probably wasn’t the polite interest he meant to be projecting. 

“I’m always all right,” he said automatically, and then kicked himself when she frowned deeper, like she was trying to work out why that sounded familiar. “I mean,” he interrupted, a little more loudly than he meant to, “I’m fine. No worries here!” He added a wide smile, showing as many teeth as he could manage. 

Donna gave her own wry smile in return and shook her head, turning back to the mess of electronics. “I’m almost done here anyway.” She typed a flurry of commands into the computer and a series of lights lit up like Christmas. “There we go!” She sat back and the generator settled into an even whirring rhythm. 

She looked so pleased. 

He grinned, basking in her attention. “Donna Noble, you _are_ brilliant.” 

She grinned back. “I am, aren’t I.” She hopped up, wiping her hands on her trousers. “Now then. What _are_ you doing in Cardiff? Bit far from home, aren’t you?” 

“Home?” Memories of orange skies and red fields came to mind before he realized she meant the last place he’d seen her. “Oh, I’m not from London.”

She raised a brow, expectantly. 

Oh right. She’d want more information. “I travel,” he said, “A lot.” 

“Must be nice,” she said, getting that distracted look again, “I used to want to travel…”

The sound of boots hitting the pavement echoed down the alleyway, accompanied by an impossibly familiar voice. “Donna Noble, you are as brilliant as you are beautiful.” Jack Harkness waltzed into view, scrubbing absently at a smear of grease across his sleeve. 

“Oh hello, handsome. Did you have fun lounging around in there while I did all the work?” Donna called back, winking at the Doctor. 

That rusty butterfly in his chest started up again. 

Jack seemed to register that there was someone else in the alleyway only moments before he realized that that someone was the Doctor. “Doc?!” He stumbled a bit. 

“All right there, Jack?” Donna cocked her head, confused. “Hang on, do you know him too?”

Jack coughed and recovered. “Ah, yes. Martha’s friend, right? It’s been a while.” He offered a hand and the Doctor shook it.

“John Smith,” he said, trying not to wince.

“So what are you doing here, John?” Jack’s voice was carefully casual, but he was staring very, very hard. Clearly Martha had been in touch. 

“Oh, you know...” The Doctor waved a hand vaguely. “Just passing through.”

Sensing an awkward lull coming on, Donna chimed in. “Well since you’re here and we all know each other, do you want to grab coffee? Catch up?”

Jack looked back and forth between them. “Is that a good idea?” He looked at the Doctor, pointedly, and then winced when Donna caught him with an elbow. 

“You’ve picked _today_ to get picky about who we go to coffee with?” she hissed. 

The Doctor sighed, knowing the immortal was right. Jack wouldn’t make him leave, that wasn’t his style, but he wouldn’t just leave them alone either. 

“No, Jack’s right,” the Doctor forced himself to answer, “I have a flight to catch.” He gestured to his wrist which, incidentally, was clearly not holding a watch. “Already late, I’m afraid.”

Donna frowned, suspicious, but fighting her instinct to argue with a stranger about his own schedule. “Right. The traveling.” She sounded vaguely disappointed, but was clearly trying to cover it. 

Jack slung an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “ _We_ can still have coffee. Or better yet I found a bottle of Château Lafitte bundled in with the contraband a week back.”

Donna nodded absently, and then more purposefully. “Right. Yes. Of course.” She gave the Doctor an apologetic look. “You’re sure you can’t stay for a bit?” 

Jack gave the Doctor his own, much harder, but still apologetic look. 

The Doctor waved them both off. “No, I definitely have to leave. Right now. Probably several minutes ago, actually.” He took one last visual draught and stepped back. “Well, this has been fun. Always great to see familiar faces. Goodbye, Captain. Donna Noble.” He smiled at her, trying for casual. 

She smiled back, still slightly confused.

He forced himself to head out at a brisk pace that only felt like running away.

“Bye!” Donna called after him. As he rounded the corner, he heard her turn to Jack in a normal speaking voice, “ _How_ do you know him exactly?” 


	5. Run-in with the Graske

Donna headed back to London to find that Martha had already been pulled into another mysterious side mission that meant she had to find her way over to the business district office on her own. 

Somewhere among the grove of ridiculously similar high-rises, a child ran around the corner, nearly knocking her over. 

“Oi!” she scolded, “Careful now!” The child looked up and she realized it was actually a little person. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to―“ She coughed. “Are you all right, sir?” 

He looked up at her with wide eyes that just kept getting wider. “DoctorDonna!” he said, with an odd scratchy voice. 

“Sorry, have we met?” She looked him up and down. He seemed to have a strange skin condition that made him look a bit… raw. He had three angular extensions on his head and she sort of doubted it was a hat. 

“Please help!” he rasped. 

Louder footsteps approached and he ducked around behind her just as two men in fatigues and berets came around the corner. 

“Ma’am, did you happen to see… something―someone come through here? It―they’d be quite small.” The blond, vaguely Northern European soldier held his hand out at roughly the little person’s height. 

Two small, claw-like hands fisted in the fabric behind her left knee. 

“Er,” Donna said, “No, I don’t think so. Why? Did you lose someone dangerous?”

The other soldier, who appeared to be of Asian descent, made a dismissive gesture with the hand not glued to his gun. “No, just missed a meet-up. You know how these things go. You might want to head home though. This area can get a bit dodgy when the bars open up.” 

Donna was reasonably sure that there wasn’t a single bar within 3 blocks, but the claws near the back of her knee were starting to shake a bit and she really wanted to get back to not having strange little aliens clinging to her skirts. “I’ll do that. Good luck with your meeting.” She smiled, subtly angling herself around to block the small figure as they walked past. 

As they walked by, the Asian man turned around to look at her harder and then with surprised recognition. He elbowed his partner, said something that sounded an awful lot like her name, and they snapped off solutes. “It’s an honor to meet you, by the way!” 

Donna gave her own somewhat more skeptical solute. “Er. Likewise.” She waved awkwardly until they turned the next corner. 

“You can come out now,” she said, but the little man was already hopping around in front of her. 

“Thank you, DoctorDonna!” 

“Yeah, I’m not a― How do you know my name? And why were those soldiers looking for you?” 

The man continued hopping. “Tricks! Trips! None the matter. The DoctorDonna helped Kripkit!” He reached into his collar and pulled out a coin with a hole in the center and a shiny piece of twine tied through it. “For you!” he said, holding it out, “Gift from Graske!” 

“No, no,” she said, “You don’t have to bribe me. I don’t care what you did, there shouldn’t be soldiers roaming around London like they own the place. There are kids here!” She made a note to argue with Martha about it later. 

The man blinked up at her with those strangely bright blue eyes. “Graske are grateful to the DoctorDonna.” He pulled a brightly colored string from his sleeve and tied it through the twine on the coin. “A token! From Great Griffoth Forge!”

“It’s really not necessary,” she said. But when he just added another green string she gave in. No reason to watch him make a dreamcatcher one thread at a time. “Oh, all right. If you insist.” 

He handed her the coin with a flourish. When she touched it she inexplicably tasted walnuts. 

“Thank you,” she said, trying not to worry too much about it. 

“The Graske welcome the DoctorDonna!” he said, managing to sound chipper in spite of his scratchy voice. He spun in a circle and hopped backwards through something that looked like a hula hoop. The hoop flashed and when she opened her eyes again she was alone. 

She rubbed the silverish ribbon against the coin and had a sudden craving for Omega-3. 


	6. Third Encounter (Of the Mixed-Signals Kind)

The Doctor tried to stay away. He really, really did. He travelled to far away stars, traversed new worlds, watched civilizations rise and empires fall. 

Inevitably, shamefully, he found himself stepping out into 21st Century Chiswick. 

He was just going to look, he told himself. Just take one quick look. Through a window. Or a fence. No interacting. 

He took two steps out of the TARDIS’ protective shielding and almost went top over teakettle when Donna careened around the corner, juggling three orbs that seemed to be magnetized. 

“Oi!” She tripped to the side. “You came out of nowhere!” She paused, and that sliver of recognition peeked through. “Oh, it’s you! We meet again.” She adjusted the magnets in her arms, eying him curiously. 

“Sorry!” he said automatically. He meant to follow that up with an offer to leave, but instead he heard himself say, “Do you want some help with that?” 

Donna looked him over. “Not forgetting a flight that’s scheduled for takeoff in 15 minutes?” 

He should say yes. He should obviously leave. Even she was giving him outs now. 

“Free for the day,” he said instead, holding his arms out. 

Pragmatic as ever, Donna shrugged and let him take one of the orbs. 

“This way then,” she said, and took off down a side street. 

She let him into her flat and directed him to her workshop, where the magnets were laid out alongside a smattering of materials that she shouldn’t have access to for another 12 centuries. 

“What is all this?” he couldn’t help asking. 

She shrugged. “Just odds and ends. My work involves a lot of cultures that are apparently big into gift-giving and sometimes I tinker around. Made sense to keep it all in a separate room after a while.” 

“Right,” he said, poking at the closest pile. That looked an awful lot like a deep space hibernation aerator. It was resting near a synthetic enhancement for senses that humans didn’t even have. 

She caught him looking and he pulled his hand back. “How long has it been?” he asked, covering. 

Donna considered. “About two weeks? Maybe three.” She seemed to be chewing something over. 

Was that a short amount of time or a long amount of time? He always had trouble remembering. 

“Is Chiswick a popular travel destination?” her tone was casual, but the way she looked at her nails meant she was in fact very interested in the answer.

“Oh, yes,” he assured her, “Very popular. Any traveler worth their salt knows you can’t pass up Chiswick.” 

She seemed to like that answer. “Well since you’re here… Would you like to stay for tea? Nothing fancy,” she warned.

The Doctor couldn’t imagine a world in which he’d turn down that offer. 

* * *

“So,” he said, trying to remember how people made small talk, “You’re working with UNIT? How does that work? Just walk up to HQ one day and ask for a job?”

Donna nodded, setting the kettle. “Pretty much, yeah. Turns out I have a bit of a knack for solving weird problems. I used to be a temp. Best temp in Chiswick.” She grinned. “Sorting order out of chaos is kind of my thing.” 

Since the moment she'd winked at him while pretending to have a cry to get out of explaining aliens at her wedding reception, the Doctor had always liked Donna. But he hadn’t noticed how self-conscious she’d been until he found himself interacting with a suddenly confident, self-assured version of his best friend. 

He couldn’t get enough of her. He basked in every word, every gesture, soaking it in like the sun. 

Sitting at a slightly wobbly table in her unassuming flat, arranging mismatched teacups around store-bought biscuits, Donna was spectacular. 

“You do know that you’re staring,” she said, smiling over the edge of her teacup. 

“Sorry.” The Doctor forced his eyes down to his own teacup, but she just laughed and patted his hand. 

He snuck a glance up and her expression was warm with just a hint of teasing.

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” she said, giving him a look he couldn't place, “Just feels like maybe we could do something about it.” 

She stood up, coming around to his side of the table and he scrambled to his feet. 

She was going to make him leave. (She _should_ make him leave.) 

She shouldn’t even have to ask. (He shouldn’t have come at all.) 

She stepped into his space and he forced himself to hold still. He tried to memorize her features one last time. The aristocratic arch of her brow. The wry quirk of her mouth. 

The press of her lips against his.

…?

Reality stuttered back like a film reel getting up to speed. There was no mistaking it― Donna was kissing him. 

Donna, who had never given any indication that she considered him anything other than strict friend material. 

Donna, who might not even have known that he was male. 

_Donna_ , his last, best friend. 

She pulled back before he’d managed to get his brain back online.

“All right?” she asked, close enough for him to feel the question against his skin. 

He could barely manage half a nod. It was more of a startled jerk. But brave, clever Donna just smiled and leaned back in. 

Given the circumstances, really, it would have been rude _not_ to participate. 

He pressed back and she tilted her head just so and they fit together _so_ easily, it was like magnets snapping into place. 

There was the faintest trace of her tongue, just a quick swipe across his lip, and he granted access automatically. Her taste flooded his senses, rich and warm with just the faintest undertone of something even stronger, lurking under the surface. 

Donna pulled back, gasping ever so slightly and he stared with eyes that felt too big for his skull.

Standing this close, he could make out faint gold flecks in her irises that he’d never noticed before. 

She scanned his face, brow quirking. “You seem pretty surprised,” she observed. 

‘Surprised’ felt like an understatement. He flipped through a mental rolodex of more appropriate alternatives. Shocked. Floored. Gobsmacked. Possibly concussed. Likely hallucinating. _About to pass out?_

He gulped in air, realizing he hadn’t done that in a while. 

Her self confident smirk cracked, ever so slightly and for the first time since she’d forgotten, that all-too-familiar uncertainty crept back onto Donna’s face. “Did I misread that?”

He hated the hesitant undertone of that question. It hadn’t been there a moment before. He’d put it there. 

The Doctor caught her elbows before she could step back. “Donna Noble, you deserve so, so much more than me.”

She blinked, and smiled a warm, open smile that he’d never seen before. “Oh, I don’t know. You’re not so bad. I think you might be my favorite stalker. Top three at least.” 

She ran one hand over the front of his jacket, smoothing the fabric and his traitorous hands clutched her closer. 

Three sharp raps at the door startled them both. 

Donna yanked her hands back and the Doctor had just enough time to wonder why _she_ looked so worried. 

The unmistakable voice of Sylvia Noble carried easily through two sets of doors, “Donna, we said we’d be at the Chambers’ in ten minutes. You’d better not be covered in motor oil again.” 

Well, that settled how the Doctor was going to run through this regeneration― he was clearly going to be beaten to death by Donna’s mother. 

He started to suggest that now might be a good time for him to run far, far away, but Donna was already clapping a hand over his mouth. “Just a minute!” she called, just a little too loudly, “I’m putting on shoes.” 

Sylvia took that as an invitation to start making suggestions on which shoes would or would not be well-received and Donna bundled the Doctor toward the back door. 

He stepped out onto the landing and turned, not really sure what he could say but reasonably sure he should say _something_.

“I’ll explain later,” Donna whispered, looking flustered and embarrassed. 

He tilted his head, genuinely confused, before realizing running from her mother probably wasn’t her preferred way to end… whatever this was. 

It was so quintessentially _Donna_ though. Precious, earnest Donna, who had saved the universe, was still embarrassed to be caught out by her mother. 

The affection that welled up at the thought must have spilled over onto his face, because she looked pleasantly puzzled― the way she used to look when he complimented her. Like she couldn’t imagine why he was looking at her like that. 

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

And because he was a coward, he nodded. 

She smiled and ducked in for one quick kiss to the side of his mouth. 

For just the briefest moment, he thought he saw a flash of gold ringed around her pupils. Then she whirled, ponytail flipping, and disappeared back into the flat. 


	7. Martha and the Adipose

In spite of having spent the previous evening with her mother and company, Donna was in a good mood. She decided to take her good mood out to buy coffee and treats for the office on her way in. 

While waiting in line, she felt something tug on her shirt and turned to find three children in marshmallow costumes looking up at her.

“Oh hello,” she said, “Is it Halloween already? Those are lovely costumes.” It seemed a bit early for Halloween, but she’d always had trouble keeping track of when Americans tended to get weirder than usual. 

The children blinked, and one snuck in for a quick hug to her knee. The costume was impressively soft, masking all sense of the child underneath. 

There was something familiar about the costume, but when she tried to place it she started getting a headache. 

“Where are your parents, sweethearts?” She looked around and found two larger marshmallows approaching. “Ah, I think I might have found them.” 

One of the adults wobbled forward. They made a series of squeaky noises with no discernible words. Donna automatically reached for the pressed flower she kept in her pocket. As usual, for no particular reason, her headache started to clear up. 

“Hello,” Donna said, trying not to be rude to what were clearly tourists, and almost definitely aliens. “You have lovely children. Very well behaved.” She patted one on the head and it cooed. 

The adult worked its way into an awed expression. They cooed something that sounded strangely reverent for people that looked like giant animatronic marshmallows. 

Conveniently, before she had to decide how to respond to that, the barista called her name.

Donna smiled her best ‘there’s nothing strange about this interaction’ smile. “Ah, well, that’s me. Have fun on your visit! Not to be rude, but you might want to have a look at your shimmer settings. They seem to be a bit off.”

The other adult squeaked, looked embarrassed, and started patting their sides. With a series of peeps, they handed her what seemed to be some sort of drop wrapped in a glittery cotton ball. 

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” she said. 

The marshmallow somehow managed to look heartbroken. It was a strange look on a marshmallow. They crooned plaintively. 

The barista called her name again, less patiently. 

“Right,” Donna said, “Of course.” To the parents she added, “It’s really not necessary,” but held out her hand.

The marshmallows all smiled, splitting the top halves, chirping in slightly out-of-sync unison. 

The nearest adult made a twittery sound, passing her the drop with soft little hands. 

Donna slapped on a smile. “Thank you,” she said, and hurried off to collect her order. 

Now she had two updates for Martha.

* * *

Donna forgot all about the marshmallows when her first update unexpectedly went down like a lead balloon. She wasn’t sure what response she was expecting from Martha, but she certainly expected it to be a lot less indignant. 

“He _snogged_ you?!” Martha repeated, inexplicably scandalized. 

“Well,” Donna demurred, “Technically I might have snogged him. But he didn’t exactly fight me off, y’know.” 

Martha gaped at her like she’d just casually mentioned being taken hostage by pirates and then marrying one of them. 

“The D― John Smith? The bloke from the rooftop with the acetonic converter?” 

“Yeah, the one you and Jack seem to know and seem completely uninterested in bringing round anywhere.”

“Tall? Skinny? Hair like an electrified hedgehog?” 

Donna thought that over. “I’d have said some sort of bird, but yeah, it is a bit on the hedgehog-ish side.” She leaned in, conspiratorially, “He’s always in the same suit too― what’s that about?” 

Martha just kept staring, looking a bit horrified now. 

“Sorry, I should’ve asked― Is he an ex?” 

Martha barked out a laugh. “Oh, he’s an ex _something_!” 

Donna frowned, trying to piece that apart.

“We never dated,” Martha decided she’d better clarify. “He’s not… I’m not sure he’s good at… relationships…” 

Donna laughed a little at her awkward face. “Who said anything about a relationship? I just had him around for a quick snog.”

Martha looked a very strange combination of embarrassed, indignant, and angry, with the slightest undertone that looked an awful lot like hurt. 

Donna opened her mouth to offer not to see him again, but she couldn’t quite get the words out. There was something about him…

“Just be careful,” Martha said. “He means well, but… people who get close to him tend to get hurt.”

Donna shrugged. “That’s true of most of us past a certain age.”

Martha opened her mouth and closed it again without saying anything. She seemed to chew something over and then settled on repeating, “Just be careful, yeah?” 

Donna smiled and gave her a hug. “What did I do to deserve a great friend like you?” 

Martha looked terribly guilty for the rest of the day.


	8. Course Correction

The Doctor decided that he absolutely, categorically, unquestionably could not see Donna again. He was putting her mind at risk and apparently confusing her with his behavior that she seemed to interpret as some sort of courtship ritual. 

That all had to stop. So he was going to stop. Just cut off. Cold turkey, as they say. 

He made it all of a week.

The TARDIS set down exactly 38 hours after the last encounter, and the Doctor stepped out, determined that he was only going to say goodbye properly. Maybe tell her she was brilliant, just one last time. Try not to mention any risk of her brain expanding beyond the capacity of her body. 

Just your average conversation, really. 

He made his way to her flat, knocked twice and pressed the button that set off a bell somewhere inside. When nothing seemed to happen, it occurred to him that she might not be in. 

What did people do when other people weren’t in? Leave notes? He patted his pockets, wondering if he had any non-psychic paper on hand. Oh, this was going to take a while. What alphabet were they using these days? Cuneiform? That didn’t seem right…

A series of noises started up within the flat, interspersed with curses. 

The noises got closer, producing a fuzzy, yawning Donna Noble. “John?! Do you have any idea what time it is?!?”

“8:23 AM,” he answered easily.

Donna seemed to think that he should be able to extrapolate some additional information out of that. 

“Is 8:23AM not a good time?” he hazarded. “Too early?” She blinked blearily. “Have you not been awake long enough? Should I come back later?” 

Back on the TARDIS, Donna had never been much of a morning person, but that wasn’t really tied to a specific time so much as a pattern that she was not to be disturbed within 2 hours of waking. He’d been summarily kicked out of several rooms for not properly honoring the two hour buffering window. 

Donna squinted at him. “Bit early, yeah.” She tugged her dressing gown a little tighter. “Do people not call first wherever you’re from?”

Martha had asked something similar at some point. He tried to remember the context. 

She watched him struggle for a moment before adding a hint. “Phones? Remember those?” 

Oh, right. “Phones. Course. Course I remember phones. Fantastic things, phones. Key feature though― you can’t just dial any number. Has to be the right number. Typically hard to guess, that.”

She squinted harder and then miraculously seemed to decide that made sense. “Right… Guess I’ve never actually given you my number.” 

He’d just been reciting facts about phones, but now that he thought about it she hadn’t given him her number. So he nodded along more vigorously. 

“Not sure that explains the 8AM wakeup, but all right…” she grumbled to herself and then rubbed her eyes a little harder. “How about I meet you at the cafe on the corner. In an hour?”

“Will one hour be enough?” he asked. “You can take the full two.” His ears still rang sometimes after not honoring the two hour wakeup window. 

For no obvious reason, she seemed suspicious of that offer, so he made sure to affect an unthreatening demeanor. Pre-Coffee Donna operated on a bit of a hair trigger, if memory served. Best not to make any sudden movements that could be misconstrued as threatening. 

“Two would be great,” she said, slowly. 

“Molto bene!” he beamed, backing down the steps, “I’ll see you at 10:23AM at the cafe on the corner.”


	9. Farewell (for the Fourth Time)

The Doctor skipped forward and made it to the fabled cafe on the corner with exactly 3 minutes to spare. He selected a table by the window and ordered tea for two. 

Donna showed up a few minutes later, looking much more awake. He waved her over just as the tea arrived. 

“Hello again,” he greeted her enthusiastically. Perhaps too enthusiastically― she seemed a bit nervous. Possibly not entirely awake yet. 

He selected six sugar cubes for his tea, plunking two into Donna’s, and added a splash of milk to hers before nudging it towards her. 

She seemed surprised, but accepted the cup. 

“Right,” she said, “I guess explanations are in order.” 

“Right.” He took a quick sip of his own tea before launching in. “Sorry― I didn’t mean to wake you earlier. I have a little trouble remembering what’s early. Because of timezones. That’s what they’re called here, aren’t they? Yes― timezones. Lots of traveling across those. Makes it hard to keep track of everyone else’s schedules. Hazard of the job you might say.” He paused to see if that explanation would be accepted.

Donna was frowning, but it was a confused frown, not particularly accusatory. Possibly just her default expression for him. “No,” she said, slowly, “I meant _I_ owe _you_ an explanation.”

He cast around his recent memory for a reason. “An explanation for what? Why it’s early? I believe we’ve already covered that I understand the concept of timezones; I just have a bit of trouble with practical applications.” 

She squinted at him. “No… I meant I owe you an explanation for the other day.”

Not really sure where she was going with that, he tried looking curious and attentive. 

“When I kicked you out of my flat,” she added, still speaking quite slowly.

“Oh you mean when your mother came by? What part of that needs explaining?” 

Donna opened her mouth, closed it, and reopened it after what seemed like a long pause. “Hang on, do you know _my mother_?” Her voice went up accusatorially at the end, like it usually did when she mentioned her mother. 

“What? No. No no― No.” She was frowning harder now so he amended, “Well I’ve met her. I wouldn’t say I _know_ her. I suspect she may not like me. Though one time she had an axe and she didn’t hit me with it, so that’s something, right?” He grinned, inviting her to agree.

Donna scowled. “Seriously, have I met you before? Why do you know everyone that I know?” 

“I know lots of people, Donna! Stands to reason that a few would overlap.” He smiled and waved at some strangers walking down the sidewalk for effect. The man waved back, puzzled. 

“Right,” Donna said, shrewdly. Then she regathered herself. “Well, then I guess I don’t need to explain the other day after all.” 

“Oh no,” he agreed, “Anytime you want to bundle me out of sight of your mother you should feel absolutely free to do so. Encouraged, even.” 

She laughed, hitting that awkward note that he’d missed and he grinned back.

Something seemed to occur to her and she shifted closer, like she was going to tell him a secret. He leaned in and was entirely surprised when she tilted her head and snuck a quick kiss instead. 

She sat back before he could react and he was immediately distracted by a tray of very small sandwiches that the waiter brought over. 

They passed the time as easily as ever. She told him about the trade delegation she’d saved from an international incident. He oohed and ahhed and basked in the new experience of praising her quick thinking without having to argue about it. 

He told her about the time he’d accidentally proposed to a yeti-like creature that he cleverly referred to as Norwegian for the purpose of the story. She almost laughed herself sick when he told her about the corgi(-like) ring bearer that chased him through the hall and bit him. 

He didn’t remember that he was supposed to be telling her he couldn’t ever see her again until they were walking back to Donna’s flat, with Donna good-naturedly grumbling about having to pay. As though it was his fault that the cafe on the corner hadn’t been willing to accept Rupees or Pesos― _two_ types of era-appropriate Earth currencies! 

“Donna...” He affected his best serious voice. “I’ve been meaning to say something.” 

“Oh have you now?” She nudged her shoulder into his, smiling. “That’s good because up until now you’ve been a real shrinking violet. I’ve been meaning to bring it up.”

OK so he was going to miss her. He knew that already. He didn’t need this stupid body to get all weepy about it. 

He swallowed, trying to figure out where to start and she stepped closer, looping her hand through his. He squeezed back, automatically, and became thoroughly distracted by how nice it was to hold her hand once more. 

It was because of this distraction that he didn’t notice her leaning in again until her lips pressed against his.

He held very still, trying to decide how to best extricate himself without offending her. Not that he had much practice _not_ offending Donna. But she wouldn’t be doing this if she remembered who he was. And it had to be taking advantage somehow. 

Also he didn’t want to kiss Donna, he reminded himself. Not quite sure why he had to remind himself of that. 

Donna, blissfully unaware of his moral dilemma, slid her free hand into the hair at the back of his head, clutching _just_ so. 

He made a sound that he wasn’t entirely proud of. But it felt nice. 

_So nice._

She curled her fingers, scratching the nails ever so lightly, and moved her lips ever so gently and just for a moment, he forgot why he was supposed to be pulling away. 

His hand crept up to mirror hers. Her hair caught between his fingers and the base of her skull, sliding over his skin, releasing the familiar scent of her conditioner. 

He would have been just as happy with a hug. Probably. But there was something… not unpleasant about the way Donna’s mouth moved against his. He swiped his tongue over her lip, tasting, like he tasted everything, but she opened her mouth and tasted him back and it was all very nice and reciprocal. 

She stepped back, tugging him forward, until she was leaning against her front door.

“Keys,” she breathed against his mouth. 

He made a curious sound in the back of his throat, distracted by the strands of red hair curled between his index and middle fingers. 

“I need to grab my keys,” she said, pulling back slightly. 

He opened his eyes and had to lean back to focus. 

Her own eyes were glowing gold behind the familiar blue. 

The Doctor jerked back, nearly falling down the steps. 

“Woah!” She reached out reflexively. “Easy there!”

Her eyes were the same blue-grey as always. Even with the slight slant of judgment. 

“I have to go,” he blurted, before he forgot again. 

Donna blinked― still just blue, no hints of gold. 

“That’s what I was going to tell you,” he forged ahead, “I should be heading out soon. Traveling. You remember, how I travel.” 

She nodded once, very slowly. 

“And I don’t think I’ll be back in the UK for a while. A long while. I basically shouldn’t come back here. Except for emergencies. Travel emergencies!” he clarified quickly. “So I probably shouldn’t come around anymore. And I felt like I should tell you. Because… that’s what people do, isn’t it? So you won’t wonder where I’ve gone. Not that you’d wonder! But still― seemed like I should mention it. Should I have mentioned it?” He cut off, looking around, and realized that Donna had moved well out of reach. “Something wrong?” 

She gave him an inscrutable look. “No, just taking in the irony of my stalker telling me he needs space.”

“I’m not a stalker, I just happen to― hang on― I didn’t say I needed space. I’m just not going to be around. Here. Because of the traveling! I’ve been told that I have a tendency to… swan off...” He grimaced at his own phrasing. “And as we’ve covered earlier I’m not much for calling. Terrible at it, really. I think it’s something to do with the, er, timezones― Sorry, are you all right?”

Donna’s expression had cooled considerably, and was edging its way toward polite, which never boded well. “Oh, fine,” she said. “I get it. Not sure why we had to go through this whole song and dance to get here, but all right.” She brushed some imaginary lint off her sleeve and straightened up, suddenly all business. “For future reference, what was it that did it?”

He looked around the walkway, but couldn’t find any helpful context clues. “Sorry, did what?” 

She shrugged and made a vague gesture between them. “What scared you off? Don’t make me guess.” 

The Doctor took a moment to decode that. “Scared me― Oh! Nono― no!” He closed the distance between them in a rush. “No, that’s not what I said!” He grabbed her arms to keep her from edging away. “Donna Noble, you are _brilliant_. And you should never doubt it. Even for a moment.” 

Donna, being Donna, seemed determined not to listen. “I don’t need you to tell me I’m brilliant,” she said, color riding high in her cheeks, “I’m just asking for an explanation. You don’t have to put on a whole production just to get out of answering a single question. You’re always so melodramatic―” She cut off, pressing a hand to her head, not quite covering her eyes flickering gold, and he snatched his hands back to his own sides. 

After several tense seconds, her eyes stabilized blue-grey and she didn’t start spitting regeneration energy, but she did look embarrassed. “Sorry― not quite sure why I said that last bit.”

“Don’t worry about it. I should go anyway.” The Doctor held very still, trying not to set anything off. “I’ll miss you,” he offered, pathetically. Figuring that was as good a note to end on as any, he turned back toward the TARDIS.

Donna’s hand clamped around his wrist like a manacle. She seemed just as surprised as he was, staring down at her own hand like she didn’t know what it was doing. 

“Donna?”

Her eyes snapped up, starbursts spiking gold behind her irises. 

The Doctor jerked his hand away and the gold winked out of existence. He took two quick steps back and Donna stopped rubbing at her temple. Four more steps and she stood up straighter, eyes clearing. 

“I have to go,” he said. “I shouldn’t have come here at all. I just―“ He cut himself off. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” 

He did what he always did― ran. 

* * *

The Doctor skipped ahead an hour and discreetly confirmed that Donna wasn’t catatonic. He took care to keep two panes of glass, several meters of physical space, and a perception filter between them for his check-in. There was no sign of regeneration energy, just Donna, puttering around her flat, eating toast. 

Confident that if her mind were melting she’d at least put down the toast, the Doctor crept back to the TARDIS and picked up where he left off, running. 


	10. Jack and the Shadow Proclamation

Donna was not drinking alone at a bar over some skinny idiot in a suit. She wasn’t. She happened to be located in a bar and it would be strange not to order a drink while she was there, but that was it. The fact that she was also alone was purely coincidental and entirely unrelated to any events that might or might not have recently transpired. 

“Well, hello, gorgeous.” She turned to find none other than Jack Harkness, looking like he’d just stepped off a red carpet in the 1940’s. 

“Jack!” she greeted, a bit too loudly for the space, startling the nearby patrons. “What brings you here?”

“Oh you know me,” he said vaguely, waving over the bartender and helping himself to her drink. He took a sip, scrunched his face, and ordered two glasses of some very specific Bordeaux. 

She took a quick swipe at her eyes while he was turned, just in case. 

Jack, ever the gentleman, pretended not to notice. “Looks like I’ve just figured out what I’m doing tonight.” 

She smiled and fanned herself. “Why, Mr. Harkness.” 

“That’s Captain Harkness.” He smiled, wrapping an arm around the back of her chair and leaning in to stage whisper in her ear, “Now what’s a pretty lady like you doing in a place like this?” 

She laughed and nudged him off with her shoulder. “I see that lovely Welshman still hasn’t managed to housebreak you.” 

“Never.” He turned his smile on the barman who came back with their glasses and somehow didn’t have to pay. 

“You earn your keep; I’ll give you that,” Donna teased, raising her glass. 

He clinked and sipped, eyes flicking around the bar. 

“Looking for someone in particular or just a general concept?”

As always, he didn’t even look embarrassed to be caught. “Oh, bit of both, I suppose.” 

She snickered and they made light small talk and it was all very nice. She settled into the warm feeling of belonging that Jack and Martha always seemed to bring with them. Just as she was getting particularly comfortable, a very strange shape went by the window. 

“Was that a rhino?” she asked, entirely rhetorically, but Jack whipped around. 

“Where?”

She pointed outside. “It must have been some sort of mask. Is there some sort of event today?”

Jack was immediately on his feet. “I’ll be right back. Stay in here!” 

“Oi, what’s with that tone?” she asked, but he was already gone. 

“Rude,” she grumbled to herself, less concerned than she might have been two glasses earlier. 

She sipped her wine, impressed in spite of herself. The man did know his vintages. She took the opportunity to look around the bar again, noting it had filled in quite a bit in the background. 

A pale woman slipped in the back door, looking distinctly out of place. It didn’t help that her hair was so blonde it was practically white and her skin was more-or-less the same color, giving her the appearance of a very pretty ghost. 

Donna wasn’t the only one who noticed. A man began circling immediately, and the poor woman looked terribly uncomfortable but too polite to tell him to just shove off. 

Donna hopped up, bringing both glasses with her and approached the woman with a big smile for show. “Kat!” she called, working her way between her and the man as though she hadn’t noticed him there. “You made it!” She handed her Jack’s wine and cocked her head invitingly. “I got us our usual booth.” 

The woman blinked at her, but followed along.

“There now,” Donna said, as they got clear, “You really are welcome to join me. I’m just waiting on my friend to get back. This is his,” she added, taking the glass and putting it back on the table. 

“Donna Noble,” the woman said, awestruck. 

“Oh, sorry, do I actually know you?” Donna gave her a sheepish once-over. “I was just trying to get you out of whatever that was. Looked a bit uncomfortable.”

The woman looked back with bright red eyes that seemed slightly unfocused, like she was looking through her. “Oh,” she said sadly, “It has come to pass.”

Donna cocked her head. “Hm?”

The red eyes refocused, suddenly intense. “I am so sorry.”

Donna laughed a little uncomfortably. “Oh, no, it’s fine really. Us girls have to look out for each other, yeah?” 

The woman looked at her, seeming much older than her appearance would indicate. With an odd fluttery movement, she glanced at the door and then dug a marble out of her pocket and held it out. 

“Oh, no, you don’t need to give me anything.”

“Please,” she insisted, “It will help.” 

“It’s really okay.” Donna put her hands up, trying for placating. “It was no trouble.”

“Please, Donna Noble,” the woman caught one hand in hers and pressed the marble into her palm. “It is the least I can do.” 

It was oddly warm, like it had been lying in a sunbeam and there was an intricate pattern in the glass that caught in the light. Donna held it up, trying to track the illusion of movement. 

“Show it to no one,” the woman said, folding her fingers back over it, “But keep it close.” 

“It really is lovely,” Donna said, “Are you sure you want me to have it? You really don’t need to give me anything.” 

An odd smile crept onto the pale features. “Please keep it,” she said, “The Proclamation owes you a great deal.” 

A familiar grey coat passed by the window heralding Jack’s return, and the woman excused herself, hurrying out the back door again. 

“Sorry about that,” Jack said, sliding back into the booth. 

“Does Torchwood have you working for the zoo these days?” she asked, pocketing the marble before she could think twice about it. 

“Oh you know me. You say ‘rhino,’ I think ‘parade!’ And I do love a parade.” Jack smiled as though she wouldn’t notice his bruised lip if he laid it on thick enough. 

She decided to allow him his secrets. She certainly had a few of her own. 


	11. Once More, with Feeling

This time, the Doctor actually stayed away. He’d seen the regeneration energy sparking in Donna’s eyes when he stayed too close for too long and he knew he couldn’t risk it. It was one thing to abuse her friendly nature just to soak up her attention (creepy, perhaps, but basically harmless). It was an entirely different issue to risk reawakening the energy that would burn through her and leave nothing behind. 

So he had to stay away. Donna was alive and whole and if he could never see her again then that was just his personal problem. As far as she knew he’d only met her a handful of times. He was the only one losing a best friend. And he’d made that choice long ago. 

He traveled for months, skipping across timelines like a stone, taking more care than usual to leave ripples, not waves. He camped out for a bit on a planet inhabited entirely by sentient trees and became an acorn connoisseur. He stayed for three months with the Lyblumes, who communicated only via intricate patterns of bubbles. At one point he just spent two weeks reliving the solstice celebration on Erka’at 12, enjoying the vibrant colors that lit up the landscape. 

During a tour of the second century cultural renaissance of the underwater cloud kingdom of Tupt, a priority call came in from UNIT. 

As it happened, the Prime Minister had come across the sacred blessings of the Rhugh’ark royal family and, mistaking them for caramels, had consumed two of them. So there was a minor diplomatic incident unfurling. 

So the Doctor worked his way back to Earth.

* * *

Negotiations were going quite well, actually, until a member of UNIT stepped onto the beloved royal pet, which he’d mistaken for a rug. 

The humans were summarily removed from the premises and the Doctor, with his off-world knowledge that made him more culpable somehow, found himself locked up in one of the lower conference rooms to await judgment. 

“Forget to brief the humans on cultural standards _one_ time…” he muttered to himself, feeling his way around the door. 

The conference room was roomier than most cells he’d been stuck in, at least. It was one of those 21st century rooms with glass walls, allowing him to look around the underground space. It was a pretty basic office setup, except for the bullet-proof glass and the newly installed vault locks on the doors. 

Something clattered down the stairs just before two Rhugh’ark guards appeared, wrestling someone through the threshold. 

“Oi!” a familiar voice rang out, “Keep your hands― hooves― whatever― to yourselves! I don’t know what you think you’re playing at here― You let the others leave!” Donna Noble stumbled into view, looking thoroughly displeased.

“The humans don’t know better,” one of the guards gurgled. 

“I keep telling you, _I’m_ human!” She wedged a foot up against a desk, dragging it with them. 

“Not according to the scans.” They detangled her easily.

“Oh, well if the _scans_ say―“ Donna rolled her eyes, sarcastic to the end. “No you’re right, I’m probably mistaken about _my own species_!” 

Just then, Donna seemed to realize that there was someone already in the basement. “John?!” 

He looked around wildly but there was nowhere to hide. It was a block with glass sides. He was suddenly very aware that he was very much trapped.“Er,” he said, “Hello.” 

The Rhugh’arks took her momentary surprise as an opportunity to bundle her into a second conference room. 

The moment the stairwell door closed, Donna started pressing buttons on the Polycom unit in the middle of her table. The matching unit in his room immediately lit up and he obligingly poked the biggest blinking button. 

Donna’s voice came through as clearly as if she were standing next to him. “John Smith, why are you locked in the basement of Home Office?”

He tried to arrange himself as far away from her as possible without looking like he was cowering in the corner. “I could ask you the same question!” 

“Well _I_ don’t know, do I? They let everyone else go, but said I should know better for some reason and... here we are.” He could actually see the moment she made the connection. “Hang on― they said they sent all the humans back. So why are you―“ She scrubbed her hands over her temples. 

The Doctor flattened himself against the far wall. “Is there any chance I could convince you to try not to think about it?” 

She gave him a withering glare.

“Had to ask…” he muttered. 

Donna’s hands moved from her temples to her forehead. “So you’re an alien,” she summarized. “That’s your big secret?” 

“My what? Who said I had a secret?” The Doctor toed one of the rolling chairs closer, trying to act natural.

Even at twenty paces, Donna managed to convey a look of utmost disdain for his efforts. 

“I might technically be an alien,” he said, “But it’s not exactly a secret. I never told you I was human― you just assumed. Bit presumptuous, actually.” 

Donna huffed. “No you’re right. So rude of me.” She dragged a hand through her hair. “Well, what type of alien are you anyway?” 

The Doctor realized he didn’t actually have an answer that wouldn’t risk triggering the metacrisis. “That’s… sort of personal. Don’t you think?” She opened her mouth, but he barreled ahead. “Not that it matters. We should be thinking about how to get out of here. Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to do a quick inventory of my pockets. Should only take an hour or two.” He started rummaging, pulling out a handful of marbles, two gormfruit and a hairdryer. 

After a long pause, she circled around the conference table in her cube, dragging a rolling chair over to the door. 

“So,” he ventured, “How have you been?” 

Donna gave him an inscrutable look and didn’t reply. 

“Donna?” he prompted. 

She fiddled with her door. 

Was the connection faulty? “Donnaaa…?”

“What?” she snapped. 

“How have you been?” he repeated. 

“Listen, mate, we don’t have to make small talk just because we happen to be stuck in the same basement. Even _saying_ that sounds pathetic. Just let me work and we can be on our separate ways. As a matter of fact, I can―“ She moved to shut off her Polycom. 

“No, don’t do that!” He leapt toward his own unit protectively. “If you shut it off then we can’t talk!” 

Donna looked like she was genuinely worried about what an idiot he was turning out to be. “That would be the point, yes.”

The Doctor frowned, “But… But I like talking to you.”

Donna made a strange, indignant sound. “That’s a change from last time.” 

He tried and failed to think of any time in recent memory that he wouldn’t have given up a limb just to talk to Donna Noble. “Last time?” he repeated, thoroughly lost. 

“Yes, ‘last time’ when you interrupted a perfectly good snog to give me a casual heads up that you never wanted to see or talk to me again and then _literally_ ran off. Ring any bells?”

“That’s not what I said!” She startled and he realized he’d said that a bit too loudly. “I just―“ He cast around for something that was true enough without being dangerous and came up with exactly nothing reasonable to offer. “I can’t explain! Can’t you just trust me on this? I’m trying not to―“ He cut off, frustrated, and resumed digging around in his coat pocket. He slapped a yoyo and six feathers down next to the other items piling up on the conference table. 

Donna watched him dig out a packet of freeze-dried yogurt, and shook her head, going back to fiddling with her door. 

A distinct sonic whir fired up and her door popped open. Donna stepped out, pocketing the pen he’d seen before. 

“Oh, brilliant! You still have your pen!” He beamed at her. 

Donna gave him another unreadable look and unexpectedly moved toward him instead of away, toward the exit. 

“What are you doing?” he yelped, scrambling in the opposite direction. 

“Letting you out,” she said, slowly, like she wasn’t entirely sure he spoke English.

“No, don’t do that!” he protested, clawing along the wall. “I should definitely stay in here. Like a quarantine. Exactly like a quarantine, actually! Consider me under quarantine. It’s very, very important that you not get too close.”

She pressed one hand to the glass, head tilted. “Not exactly hermetically sealed, is it?”

Not for the first time, the Doctor wished that Donna were just a _little_ dumber. “Right, well, that’s a great example of a great reason for you to get out of here as fast as possible. Off you pop!” He pressed himself back as far as he could go. 

Donna’s frown flipped to a grimace and one hand went to her head, barely obscuring the golden glow that flared up. The hand pressed to the glass turned white at the fingertips. 

“Donna!” he shouted, frozen between the urge to move closer and the knowledge that that was the absolute last thing he should do. “Get away from here! Now!” 

She shook her head, contrary as ever, “If I’m already infected then there’s no need for―“ She cut off, hissing, and the hand not clutching her head went to her pocket, yanking out her sonic pen. She tilted forward, pressing her forehead into the glass so that she could squint at the settings. 

“No, don’t―!“ He couldn’t get the words out fast enough. 

The pen lit up and the door clicked open. 

There was a pause, and then Donna shifted like she might try to come in after him. 

Quick as a Tellurian cat, the Doctor launched himself out of the conference room, darting to the furthest possible corner of the basement. 

The regeneration energy winked out, leaving Donna reeling, but thankfully still very much alive. For the moment.

“Wh―“ She shook her head like she was trying to get rid of tinnitus. 

“How’s your head?” he asked, assessing the angles he’d need to get himself to the exit. 

Donna ignored him, back to her natural state of disregarding his questions. “What the hell was that?” She straightened, still rubbing at her temples. 

“That was you breaking quarantine! Exactly like I said not to!” He edged toward the stairwell. 

Donna shook her head again, more slowly. “No, that’s not― that’s not what happened. That doesn’t even make sense. It was more like―“ She cut off, head snapping up. “Who are you? Really?” 

“Just your average, slightly miasmatic alien,” he said, focused almost entirely on his new goal of getting the hell out of the basement and as far away as possible. The Synth Galaxy, perhaps. “I really must strongly advise that you try not to think about it. It’s a, uh, pretty crucial part of the quarantine.”

That went over about as well as could be expected. “Stop lying! You’re terrible at it!” she snapped. “You’re going to tell me what’s actually going on here and you’re going to tell me _right now_!” She stalked toward him, forcing him to scramble back away from the stairs.

“Donna, stop!” he ordered, adding an undertone of Time Lord authority, which he normally tried not to use on humans because of the side-effects like dizziness and vomiting. 

Donna barreled right past it without so much as a flinch. “Listen, you stupid Martian, I’ve had enough of this!” Her eyes flashed gold, but she didn’t stop or even slow down. 

“Donna, I’m serious! Stay away from me!” He retreated as fast as he could, dodging around random office furniture. She was close enough that he could see the regeneration energy whirling. 

Spreading.

“ _Please stop!”_ he begged, terrified. 

Donna ―miraculously― stuttered to a stop. 

The Doctor scrambled to the far corner, eyes locked on hers. 

The gold faded, leaving Donna looking faintly horrified. “Why are you so scared of me?”

He realized he was panting, and cut that off. “I can’t explain,” he said. “It’s very important that you let me leave. _Please_ , just let me leave!” 

Several expressions flashed over her features, landing somewhere between worried and sickened. She nodded once, stepping back. 

The Doctor ran. 


	12. The Water Hag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I actually looked up the planets that were saved by the DoctorDonna so this seemingly random roster of aliens is actually researched (using the Doctor Who wiki, not like a library or anything, but still.)

Martha was still being slightly awkward about pointedly not asking about her social life and Donna felt it was simply too highschool to hunt her down just to tell her she wouldn’t be seeing that ridiculous man again, so instead she looked for assignments that just so happened to involve spans of time away from the lab. If it happened to be something that could take her mind off of her own thoughts for a few hours then so be it. 

For no obvious reason, everyone at UNIT thought it would be absolutely gangbusters if Donna could work the “special guest” reception. She wasn’t sure what could possible be so exciting about her or the “special guests” for a semi-covert organization working out of an industrial complex, but for the amount they paid her, she’d have probably agreed to clean floors with a toothbrush if they said ‘please.’ 

She settled herself behind the desk and prepared for a few hours of dealing with whatever snooty MVP’s UNIT attracted.

Several hours later, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the roster of guests seemed to be from some sort of politesse convention because they were all ridiculously nice. Three groups asked to take photos with her and one fellow looked like he was going to pass out when she politely offered a hand to shake. 

By the sixth greeting of the day she was a bit tired, but just as she was considering a break a woman came in looking a terrible fright. 

“Hello,” Donna greeted her, already moving around the desk to offer support if needed. “I’m Donna Noble, may I help you?” 

The woman blinked at her with strange, slitted eyes and then somehow straightened to stand another foot taller. “Donna Noble,” she repeated, sounding much younger than her appearance would indicate. “It is an honor.” 

“Oh, thank you,” Donna replied. “Listen, would you like a hand? I’m sturdier than I look.”

The woman took a step back like she’d offered to feed her a live grenade. “I could never risk the DoctorDonna being infected!” 

“Oh, are you here on a medical visit then? Odd, they don’t normally come through here.” 

The woman didn’t seem to be listening. She dug in something that looked a bit like a sleeve and produced something that looked a bit like the flowers that grow on lily pads, suspended in something that looked a bit like green amber. 

She held it out, dropping it from a thin filament like a pendant. “Please take this,” she said, “On behalf of Strepto.” 

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary. I’m just the receptionist,” Donna explained. 

“You are Donna Noble.”

It wasn’t quite a question, but Donna nodded.

“Please, you must take this,” she insisted, hoisting the pendant higher. “It is infused with enlightenment from Strepto. It will not harm you.” 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply― of course I don’t think it’s dangerous!” Donna hastened to assure her. “I just mean you don’t need to give it to _me_.” 

“Please,” the woman insisted. The funny little thing seemed to glint in the light somehow. Her eyes, by contrast, darkened several shades. 

“Are you sure?” Donna asked, but put out her hand politely. “It’s really not necessary.”

The woman stepped closer, still carefully avoiding contact, and placed the thing in Donna’s hand. It felt pleasantly cool to the touch.

She held it up to the light, and it seemed like the fuzzy thing shifted with the movement, suspended in the strange liquid. “It’s lovely.” She swapped out the pendant she already had on for the new addition. 

The woman smiled so widely it split her face. Like genuinely seemed to split her face open. 

Conveniently, one of the lab techs chose that moment to finally appear. “Ah, hello. If you could follow me, please.”

The woman reached for his arm, but he shied away. “I’m afraid that’s not going to work this time.” 

“Ah well,” she said, and smiled that full-faced smile at Donna again. “It was an honor to meet you, Donna Noble.” 

Donna smiled back. “Likewise.”

The woman disappeared down the corridor and Donna resumed her vigil, feeling much more alert. 

She wasn’t much for crystals, but if she didn’t know better, she’d say this thing had an energy. It hummed against her skin. 

Her mind felt clearer than it had in days. Weeks. Years.

* * *

The next day, for the first time since she’d started at UNIT, Donna called in a personal day. 


	13. One More, From the Top

The Doctor took off to the furthest corners of the universe, skipping further and further away from Earth. He holed up for months in crystalline caves, buffeted by methane seas that swirled in a constant typhoon. He felt reasonably confident that no one would be able to get close enough to get hurt. 

Then his phone rang. 

“What did you say to Donna?” Martha, to her credit, rarely beat around the bush. 

The same could not be said of the Doctor. “Hello, Martha Jones. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” 

She huffed, “I don’t have time for this. Just tell me what you said. I know it was you― don’t argue with me!” 

He closed his mouth with a dull click. 

Martha made an impatient sound. “I’m not calling to yell at you. I just need to know what you said.” 

“Are you looking for volunteers to yell at him?” the muffled, but unmistakable voice of Jack Harkness piped up in the background. 

“Is that Jack? Why are you with Jack?” There was a rustling sound like Martha had put her hand over the mouthpiece. A vidlink activated on the console. 

He hadn’t realized they knew how to do that, but all right. 

“It’s Donna. She’s―“ Martha trailed off, looking displeased with her options for finishing that sentence. 

“She’s trying to get her memories back,” Jack chimed in. 

The Doctor balked. “What? _Why_?”

“Well we don’t know, do we!?” Martha threw her hands up. “One day she’s cheerily fixing up problems wherever she encounters them and the next she’s locked in that flat of hers refusing to take any of our calls.”

“Well almost any of our calls. She made an exception for me. Called me up to ask about Retcon.” Jack’s normally easy going features twisted into a grimace. “I think she was trying to reverse engineer it. But I didn’t figure that part out until after Martha called me. By then Donna had a two-week head start.” 

“Two weeks?” the Doctor repeated. “How long has it been since the Rhugh’ark incident?”

Martha mumbled something that sounded like “A month.” 

“No one has heard from her for _a month_?!” he asked, a bit more accusatorially than he meant to.

Martha looked guilty, but Jack squared up. “Are _you_ about to accuse _us_ of not keeping track between visits?” 

The Doctor decided not to answer that. “Well, what do you want me to do?” 

“Can you come back? I think we need your help.” 

He keyed in the coordinates and let the TARDIS reel him back.

* * *

Jack stepped up to Donna’s flat, confidently knocking five times and then pressing the bell twice. There was a long pause in which nothing seemed to happen. 

“Donna,” he called, cheerily, “It’s your favorite American.”

There was another, shorter pause and then the door opened, revealing Donna, who looked a bit pale, but otherwise normal. 

Well, she was wearing goggles on her head, and her shirt seemed to have some sort of bioluminescent material splashed across the front, but that didn’t seem too strange by the Doctor’s standards. 

“Hello, beautiful,” Jack greeted her, all smiles and charm. 

Donna eyed him suspiciously, but it was still Jack so she allowed a kiss to the cheek. 

When she moved to return the gesture she immediately spotted the Doctor and Martha, standing out past the gate. 

Donna jerked back like she’d been slapped. “What are you― Why did you bring him here?” 

Jack caught her before she could duck back inside, sliding an arm over her shoulders and pretending not to notice her attempts to shove him away. 

“It seemed like you had a misunderstanding,” Martha chimed in, moving closer. “And John here offered to help clear it up.” She looked at the Doctor, pointedly. 

“Er― Yes. Hello.” He waved. 

Martha and Jack gave him strangely mirrored judgmental looks. 

“Up for a quick chat?” the Doctor offered. 

Donna twisted in Jack’s grasp, but instead of jerking away, ducked into his chest. “Please let me go,” she pleaded. 

Jack looked down, clearly startled and about to give, but Martha swept in, separating them with brisk, clinical efficiency. “Donna, it’s fine. Look, he’s way over there.” She gestured back toward the Doctor, who hadn’t moved from his position behind the fence. Martha waited until Donna looked, and then pushed Jack into the flat in front of her. “Now we’ll be right inside if you need us.” 

Before Donna could process that, Martha shut the door in her face and engaged the lock with a chipper _snick_. 

“Sorry about them,” the Doctor said, awkwardly. “Bit too much time around soldiers― they like the element of surprise.” 

“Right,” Donna said, quietly, eying her fence.

He was pretty sure that she couldn’t jump it, but he wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t try to. He focused on looking unthreatening. 

“Sorry,” he said again, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m not quite sure where to start here. Did I, er, say something that upset you?” 

Donna let out a startled, barking laugh. “Sorry, are you here to _apologize_ to me for being _terrified_ _of_ me?”

The Doctor frowned, lost already. “I’m not afraid of you. What gave you that idea?” 

Donna took one large step toward him, and he jumped back. He was fairly certain that she wouldn’t be in danger at this distance, but he wasn’t exactly planning to run a scientific study on it. 

She gestured emphatically at the space between them. 

“Oh,” he said. “Okay I can see how you might―" 

She took another step and he jumped back again. “Listen, if you could just not do that for one moment―" 

She took two more steps and he nearly tripped over a bicycle propped by the curb. 

“Donna, _please_!” 

She froze and retreated back to her doorway. 

“Sorry,” she muttered. 

The Doctor hesitantly crept back toward the gate. “Right. So. Resuming that explanation I owe you― the short version is that if _you_ get too close to _me_ , then _you_ will be in danger.”

Donna laughed again, darkly. “Oh is that so? Didn’t seem like it was a problem before.” 

He blinked, completely lost again. 

“Snogging?” she prompted, looking like she might die of embarrassment, but refusing to admit it. 

“Oh! That...” He made a pinwheeling hand gesture and then realized he was doing it and made himself stop. “Well the, uh, effect started up after that.”

Donna was visibly unimpressed. “Did it now.” Her voice dripped skepticism.

“Yes!” he insisted. “That can happen, you know! Cross-species pheromones can be a bit of a dice roll. In this case, as it happens, I’m basically poisonous. Even at a short distance. To you.” 

This lying thing wasn’t nearly as hard as he thought it would be, now that he was getting into the groove of it. 

Donna narrowed her eyes. “Martha seemed fine.”

“Yes, well, I haven’t― how did you put it― I haven’t snoggedMartha, have I?” He willed himself not to flinch at that minor lie hidden in the much larger, more important lie. 

Donna did not seem convinced. “It’s been over a month since the last time I saw you. Are you saying you just snog someone once and then ― _poof_ ― turn poisonous? Just to them? Forever?” 

The Doctor fantasized, just once more, about how much easier his life would be if Donna were just a _little_ bit less intelligent. 

“It was rather more than once,” he said, “But yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. And it’s a bit embarrassing, I’ll have you know. So I’d really rather not have to keep talking about it.” He crossed his arms for emphasis. 

Donna glared. “Listen, I don’t care _that_ you’re lying; I just want to know _why_ you’re lying. Did I do something? Before? When my memory gets all...” She made a strange fluttery hand gesture. “Because I’m sorry, but I don’t remember doing anything that would make you look at me like that.” 

He realized he was staring at her in mounting horror and quickly scrubbed his expression. “You didn’t do anything to me! I’m the one endangering you! Right now!!” He scraped a frustrated hand through his hair. “Can’t you just forget me again? It would be easier.” 

Donna’s eyes snapped to his, flashing just the barest hint of gold. “What do you mean forget you _again_?”

The Doctor jumped a meter straight back. “Just that we’d met before! Just the one time. Really not worth mentioning. Don’t know why I’m bringing it up now.” He tried not to let on that he was pretty definitively having a stroke. 

“The point is―" He raised an emphatic finger, staring at it like it might remind him where he was going with that. The finger was no help, and he had to continue on with his own limited wits. “The point is I’m not afraid _of_ you! I’m afraid _for_ you! But only because of that very embarrassing thing that I really don’t want to get into.” 

He took a breath, realizing he hadn’t done that in a while. 

Donna stared at him, but she didn’t beat down the door or barrel over the fence so he took that as encouragement. “I really do miss you, er― will miss you,” he added, because that at least was true. “But I don’t think I should see you anymore. It isn’t safe for you.”

Donna opened her mouth, closed it, and then repeated the process twice over before finally managing one word, “Fine.”

The Doctor blinked. “Fine?”

Donna nodded. “Fine.” She straightened up, smoothing one hand over her collar briskly. “Was that all?”

“Er...” He looked her up and down. “Yes.” 

“Right,” she said, “Well I guess we’re all set here,” she turned and knocked on her own door. 

When nothing happened, she gave him an expectant look over her shoulder. 

“Jack?” the Doctor called. 

The door clicked open, Jack and Martha crowded into the threshold. 

“All settled?” Jack asked, looking between the Doctor and Donna. 

“All settled,” Donna said, patting his shoulder. “Just a misunderstanding.” She flashed a smile in profile. 

“So everything’s cleared up now?” Martha asked, looking at the Doctor over Donna’s shoulder. 

Donna turned an expectant look his way and he nodded. “Yep,” he popped, “Cleared everything up.” 

Donna gave him a quick smile. “Well, since I can’t exactly invite you in for tea…” She maneuvered past Jack and Martha, subtly herding them out the door. “I guess I’ll see you two later.” She paused, and then met the Doctor’s eyes. “Goodbye then.” 

He forced a smile. “Goodbye, Donna Noble.” 

She shut the door in their faces. 


	14. Grand Designs

Donna was much more careful after the yard encounter. She worked on her side projects around a 9-5 schedule (when Martha was in town at least), and made sure to pick up at least every other call from Jack. She met up with her grandfather every other week, and set up a monthly brunch with her mother. 

In every moment she could spare beyond that, she invented. 

Donna had never been much for building things with her hands. She hadn’t considered herself particularly mechanical. But then she’d been a temp for the better part of twenty years, so she was able to admit she might not be the best judge of her full potential. 

For whatever reason, she found that things fit together now. She moved her workshop into her bedroom because the most fantastic ideas came to her in her dreams. Half her flat was sacrificed as she thought up new and better combinations of the raw materials. 

The pieces sang to her, like they already knew what they should be and were just waiting for her to make them. 

Donna took apart her beloved sonic pen and wired the components through the marble that woman gave her in the bar. She used the coin she’d picked up in the alley to hold the marble steady, and welded the additions together with the twine from the coin and the cotton-ball wrapper once she worked out how to shatterfry them into a conductive state. 

She built herself a lovely sleep pod that meant she never needed more than three hours rest. Still, she often took five because she had the most extravagant dreams of fantastical worlds, waiting for her to discover them, calling to her like old friends. Impossible creatures whispered to her that she was brilliant and important and if she could just _remember_ …

She woke with tears on her cheeks and blueprints etched behind her eyes. 

Her best and strangest ideas came in the blurry moments just after waking. One morning she set a tracking signal to run in the sonic subroutines and couldn’t for the life of her remember what it was supposed to track just seven minutes later. 

She tried her hand at chemistry, and found it came just as easily, but with less stackable results. Using a household cleaning agent and a handful of grapes, she worked out the formula for Retcon in a matter of hours, but just as quickly ruled out any possibility that it had been used on her. It took her less than a week to rule out any other form of chemical interference. Whatever had happened to her; she hadn’t ingested it. 

Which brought her right back to hardware. Which she preferred anyway. Elaborate constructs built themselves, one fibre at a time, and with each interlocking loop her head cleared that little bit more. 

It was like weaving a tapestry in the dark, but her fingers knew the pattern and an ancient song guided the rhythm. 

* * *

On a nondescript Tuesday, Donna was pretending to read a case file she’d finished hours ago when her sonic pulsed once and heated up like a light left on too long. 

The subroutine had activated.

She called out a vague update to Martha about heading out for coffee and took to the street.

The pen vibrated in her hand, tingling against the pads of her fingers, guiding her in slowly building beats. 

Donna found herself in front of what seemed to be an abandoned medical testing facility, and found a second, fully-operational facility stuffed just within the frames. 

She let herself in, the pulses nearly constant now, and soon found herself in an observation room, looking down at John Smith’s unconscious body strapped to an operating table. 

Her pendant felt warmer against her breastbone, nearly humming. 

She flipped out her mobile and texted Martha, “ _I’m not coming back to work. I don’t know how long I’ll be, but I don’t want you to worry. If―_ “ 

She stared at the two-letter word, not sure whether it was kinder or crueler to admit she didn’t know how this would end. 

She slowly deleted the conjunction. 

“ _You’re a good friend. Never doubt that._ ”

Her thumb hit ‘send’ with a comforting click, like the penultimate puzzle piece snapping smoothly into place. 


	15. Reunion

The Doctor came to in a lab. Which was strange, but not entirely unprecedented. 

Memories started to surface. He’d been looking for the source of a signal, and something had hit him from behind.

He couldn’t breathe properly, and his head felt like it was going to fall off from its own weight. He was beginning to suspect he’d been drugged with much more than a sedative; his blood burned in his veins. 

Strangely, he didn’t seem to be in a bed or strapped to an exam table. He seemed to be wedged under a chemical bench. 

Even stranger still, he was leaning against something soft. And warm.

And breathing.

“Do you know what’s weird,” a familiar voice murmured right next to his ear, “We’ve been sitting this close for nearly 20 minutes and I haven’t died even a little.” 

The Doctor came fully awake with a jolt, jerking around to find Donna Noble smirking in the dim lighting. 

“What―" he wheezed, scrambling backwards, “Donna?!” 

She grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and slapped the other over his mouth, staring at something over his shoulder. “Shh!” she hissed, “We’re out of the cell, but this lab was the first open door I could find. We can’t set off any alarms or it’s going to get a lot harder to get out of here!” 

He realized there was a strange scraping noise in the background that had cut off. He froze, listening intently, and the scraping resumed after a moment. 

Donna waited until he made eye contact and then very slowly took the hand off his mouth to hold one finger up to her own lips. 

Her irises had gold coronas. 

The hand around the back of his neck tightened and she wrapped her other hand around his tie, not allowing him to jerk away. 

“Don’t move,” she whispered urgently. “If they find us…” The gold rings around her eyes spiked briefly in warning. “I don’t know what they were doing to you, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want them to finish the job.” 

The Doctor considered raising the alarm himself, but the odds that they’d put them in the same cell were far too high. 

“Donna, you have to let me go. It’s not safe!” He tried unsuccessfully to detangle her grip on his tie, but he was oddly sluggish, still under the effects of the sedative. 

As soon as his hand wrapped around hers, the gold swallowed the blue in her eyes. 

“Please,” he begged, “ _Please_ let go!” 

She just pulled him closer, muffling his pleading with her shoulder. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “We’re okay.” She stroked her fingers over the back of his neck. “Just calm down.” 

The scraping sound behind him seemed to be fading. If they could just hold out just long enough for her to let go…

The hand on his neck slid over and across, turning the hold into more of an embrace. “Shhh,” she hushed, “I promise it’s okay.” 

The Doctor felt like he might actually break down over this one. 

She stroked between his shoulder blades and he realized he was shaking. “Please let me go,” he whispered, wretchedly. 

There was a faint sound of hydraulics in the background and then the scraping cut off. 

As soon as she let go, he lurched upright and dragged himself over to the furthest corner, looking for an access panel.

If he could just get enough distance between them, she might have a fighting chance. 

Donna’s hand gripped his wrist, spinning him around. 

“No, don’t!” he yelped, flattening himself against the wall. “Donna, get away from me! It’s going to kill you!” 

The regeneration energy swelled, leaking out of her eyes like fog over a lake. 

“Don’t worry, Spaceman.” Donna smiled, and the light streaked across her cheeks. “I’ve figured it out.” 

His hearts stuttered. “What did you just―?" 

Donna lunged forward, swallowing his question, plying his lips apart and sweeping inside. Her hands slid into his hair, clutching him close. A sonic started up in the background, whirring at an oddly familiar frequency. 

Unnatural energy simmered under her skin, magma searching for a vent. 

He could feel it swelling, burning, and he realized he’d once again have to brick it back, chipping away at her even further.

Donna caught his wrists before his hands could reach her temples. The sonic caught against the skin of his left palm, buzzing. 

“No,” she breathed. “Not again.” 

The words turned to golden vapor on her lips.

“It’s the only way,” he begged. “I can’t be what kills you. Please let me―" 

Donna smiled, ethereal and ephemeral. “I just need a bit more. Let me take just a bit more.” 

She surged forward, catching his mouth and pinning him from chest to thigh. Her necklace dug into his sternum, white hot.

The Doctor felt a tug at the back of his mind, calling. 

Energy welled just behind his sternum, answering the call with an incandescent flood. 

Instead of drowning, Donna tilted her head back and drank.

Light welled under her skin, spilling over, but it didn’t melt or burn. It swirled within her and then dissipated as harmlessly as early-morning mist. 

“There now,” she breathed, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

The Doctor gaped, still pinned against the panel. “Donna?” His voice sounded thin and reedy, like it was echoing through a tunnel. “What?” The air rattled in his lungs, fighting him on every breath. “What??”

Donna looked him over like she was imprinting every detail into her memory with eyes that hadn’t seen light in years. Her pupils were ringed with gold instead of grey, but her gaze was clear and impossibly focused. 

She smiled, bright and beaming. “It worked!” She pressed a quick, giddy kiss to his lips.

He nearly lost his balance just standing there, but his head cleared and the buzzing in his ears cut off. “What worked?” 

Donna turned her sonic on herself for a quick scan, grinning at the results. “Oh, I really am good!” she laughed, delighted. 

The Doctor tried and failed to process that. “Donna,” he rasped, “What did you do?” 

Donna beamed at him, her face alight with perfect, beautiful, familiar recognition. “Did what I always do, didn’t I? Cleaned up the mess you made!” She yanked him into a hug, laughing. “I missed that face!” She pulled back, running her eyes over his features. “Look at that stupid, ridiculous face!” She kissed him again, like she just couldn’t contain herself. 

A weight lifted and he was suddenly smiling back. “You really are all right, aren’t you?” A laugh bubbled up, slightly hysterical. “Donna, you’re all right!” 

“Better than all right,” she laughed back, “I’m bloody brilliant!” 

He had an overwhelming urge to kiss her, and she didn’t seem to mind, hands scrabbling over his back like she was going to map the exact shape of him by touch alone. 

He pulled back, grinning, and spun her in a tight circle. “Donna Noble, what did you do?!?” 

She shrieked with laughter. “I’ll tell you all about it, but first we really should get out of here. Where did you park the TARDIS?” 

He switched his grip to her hand, as naturally as breathing. “Not far.” 


	16. Explanations (Minimal, at Best)

They ended up running the rest of the way back to the TARDIS. The moment the doors slammed behind them, the Doctor dove right back into his questions. 

“OK, walk me through it.” 

Donna gulped in air, propped up against the TARDIS door next to him. “Sure thing,” she gasped. “How small do you need the words to be? Would pictures help?” 

The TARDIS thrummed, flooding the entryway with delight. 

“I missed you too!” Donna cooed, stroking the coral. 

The central column lit up like Christmas. 

She laughed and flopped down on the jumpseat. “This place hasn’t changed…” 

The Doctor shoved in next to her. “Donna, focus! Tell me what you did! Do we even know you’re stable? That felt like regeneration energy!” 

Donna went slightly sheepish. “In my defense, I didn’t have long to think that part over.”

“ _What_ part?” 

“The, er, part where I triggered a very minor, partial, um, regeneration. In you.” 

“ _What_?!” He leapt up like the jumpseat had grown 6-inch spikes. 

“Well, that half-regeneration was the start of all this.” She gestured toward her own head, twisting her fingers into illustrative knots. “So it makes sense that a little more would top it off. Admittedly, the core concept might have come from a Water Hag, now that I’m thinking about it…” 

“You tried to _kill_ me?!” 

“No, I just _tricked_ your _body_ into _thinking_ you were dying,” she corrected. “Just for a moment. Whatever they did to you in the lab did most of the work. I just… interfered a bit with your receptors…” 

“You― you couldn’t have _asked_?!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were asking each others’ permission before making literal life-or-death decisions. That’s a change from last time!” 

“What?! _I_ didn’t try to _murder_ _you_!” 

“No??” Donna crowed, “Strange how it looks like that from this side! You just wiped every memory that’s ever mattered to me and abandoned me in Chiswick like an unwanted dog! What _is_ the word for that? I don’t think humans have one…”

“Donna!” the Doctor cut in, grabbing her shoulders, “You were going to burn!! I couldn’t just _let_ you burn!”

She shook him off and yanked her sleeves down. “Apparently not!” she snapped. “I just needed a top up.” Her eyes locked stubbornly on the grating.

All the fight bled out of him in a rush. “You _were_ dying,” he said, uselessly. 

Donna couldn’t quite look at him. “I would have died a hero. But you took that. And left me.” 

He swallowed, staring. 

She scrubbed a hand over her eyes. “Lucky for me, you’re not the only alien in town. And you’re rubbish at clean-up. Honestly, did you think no one would recognize me? Even if you dropped me off and forgot about me, a fair few others remembered.”

“ _I_ didn’t _forget_ ―“ 

“Twenty-seven planets worth of tributes piled up pretty quickly,” she continued over him, “It just took me awhile to put the pieces together. Then I just needed you...” She tugged at her sleeve, trying not to remember his wide-eyed gasping after she took the initial dose, before she figured out how to return the excess. “Admittedly, there was some recalibration needed at the end there, but it’s not like I’ve done this before.” Her lips tingled from the contact.

“But why all the―?" He flailed a bit, gesturing between them. “Why not just _ask_?! I would have done it! You didn’t have to trick me!” 

“Well I didn’t _know_ what I was looking for, did I? The metacrisis was leaking into my _subconscious_ ― It’s not like it was passing me step-by-step instructions on a teleprompter! _I_ thought I was just―“ She cut off, blushing furiously. “It doesn’t matter. You took my memories; I took them back with a little interest to make up for time served. We’re even!”

She started to move and then stopped, looking between the main corridor and the doors. 

“Don’t go!” he said, before he could stop himself. 

Donna startled, jerking back around to look at him.

He clamped his jaw shut. That was the one rule he’d managed to follow over the years― when companions decided to leave he didn’t beg them to stay. He let them go. 

And they both knew it. 

Donna tilted her head, considering, and moved toward the medbay instead. “Wouldn’t hurt to run some diagnostics before making any decisions, I suppose.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, and headed off down the hall. 

The Doctor scrambled after her. 

* * *

With all the knowledge in the universe packed into her newly renovated brain, it was the easiest thing in the world for Donna to operate the previously strange and unknown equipment in the medbay. She set about flicking switches and turning dials, scanning through readouts in looping circular scripts that told her everything she wanted to know. 

It was just as easy to simultaneously track the Doctor, who had followed her in and was hovering around her periphery like a nervous shadow. He kept opening and closing his mouth, gearing up for explanations she no longer needed.

The TARDIS hummed in the back of her mind, cheerily guiding her movements with gentle nudges to fill in the gaps she couldn’t recall quite quickly enough. Donna stroked a hand over the coral behind a monitor. For all that had changed, it still felt like home. 

The hum rose to a pleasant thrum and the coral seemed a bit warmer. 

The Doctor flitted closer, like a nervous bird. She resisted the urge to swat at him just to see if he’d jump. 

It felt like her memories were now neatly sorted into two categories, her own and those she’d absorbed. It was rather like having a single favorite house in a vast continental complex. Within that cherished alcove of her own mind, there was an odd drawer filled in with her memories from the past year, filtered through the mental block and discolored by the now free-flowing metacrisis.

Donna remembered the Doctor all too well. Even filtered through so many warping lenses, he still came through as her daft, useless, wonderful best friend.

She sighed, giving the TARDIS one last pat before turning. “You don’t have to watch me; I know what I’m doing.”

“Course you do. Course.” He started nodding and apparently forgot to stop, just bobbling around like his head was on a faulty spring. “Never know when you might need a second pair of hands though. Do you need a second pair of hands?” The nodding tilted sideways, inquisitively. 

“Got it covered, thanks,” she said, but magnanimously angled the nearest monitor so that he could see it. “You’re fine; I’m fine. Everything is functioning perfectly. Better than, in fact. I think that regeneration energy might have taken a couple of years off.” 

He narrowed in on the screen as soon as she turned it, eyes darting around like the information might disappear if he took too long to see it. He dragged his glasses out, shoving them onto his face without blinking. 

Caught up in reading, he crowded in next to her, so close that she could see the individual worry lines creasing his ridiculous eyebrows. Close enough for her to see the faint movements of his lips as he read. 

The Doctor’s eyes flicked over to hers and she could make out the gradients of his irises. “Donna,” he breathed, his expression shifting to the purest concentration of joy, “You’re fine! You’re _perfect_!” He smiled like his whole face might split open and dragged her into a full-bodied hug, spinning her around. 

She shrieked, scrabbling at his bony shoulders. “That’s what I just said, you daft Martian!” 

He just kept laughing, setting her down with a flourish. “You are _brilliant!_ ” He beamed, running his eyes over her like he was physically scanning every detail and storing it away for later. 

“I really am, aren’t I?” She grinned back, taking her own scan of him now that she had all that extra mental storage space. Some unacknowledged band of tension eased in her chest as she realized he wasn’t even going to question her methods. The daft alien didn’t care what she’d done; he was just happy to see her. 

The Doctor made a strange, aborted move and she recognized the look that flickered across his face, but it took her a moment to realize the memory was from that fuzzy drawer of mismatched memories. 

“Doctor,” she said, slowly, “Would you… have an interest in… picking up where we left off?” 

He blinked and then beamed so brightly it was like looking directly into the sun. “You want to travel with me again?” 

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Not actually what I was getting at, but yeah, that too. You still owe me that tour of the universe now that I actually know what I’m looking at.” 

He giggled ―giggled!― and crushed her into another hug. 

The Doctor was, if nothing else, an excellent hugger. What he lacked in padding, he made up for in unbridled enthusiasm. 

After a particularly solid squeeze, he pulled back. “Wait, what _did_ you mean?” 

She snorted. “Never mind.”

His happy, dopey expression turned hesitant. “You did― You do still want to travel with me, don’t you?” His grip caught and tensed on her elbows. 

Her heart melted, just a little. “Yeah, well, I did just trigger a very minor, hardly noticeable, partial regeneration in you. Probably makes sense to keep an eye on that for at least a couple of trips.” 

The Doctor grinned, but quickly refocused, peering at her curiously. “What did you mean, then?” 

She cleared her throat, trying to step back and immediately encountering the medbay dock. “It’s not important.” She pushed forward, herding him out of the way. “Let’s see how my favorite lounge is doing― the one that looks like Versailles covered in purple moss.” 

“Donnaaaa,” he whined, following her down the hallway, “What _did_ you mean?” 

Donna opened the first available door, which conveniently did lead to the spongy French lounge. “If you’d learn to listen―" 

“Don-nnaaaaaaa,” he interrupted, swinging around in front of her and staring at her like she might have the answer written somewhere on her face, “What were you trying to ask?” He worked his features into what was apparently supposed to be a ‘listening’ face. 

“Oh for―" She furiously willed herself not to blush. “I was going to ask if you wanted to you know, have a quick snog. Maybe... see how it goes when neither one of us is going to burn up or regenerate or whatever.”

He froze up, eyeing her like a nervous woodpecker. “I thought that was all just... you drawing out the regeneration energy...?” 

“Didn’t know that at the time, did you?” she pointed out. “But you were up for― hang on―“ She flipped through the newly framed memories, remembering a particularly heated doorway. “I was going to let you shag me!” She whirled on him, accusatory. “You were going to shag me!” 

The Doctor choked. “What? _What_?! I was _not!”_ His voice jumped up an octave. “ _What are you talking about?!?_ ”

“After that brunch. Date. Thing― _Whatever_ it was. You snogged me up against my front door and I was going to―" She jabbed him with an accusatory finger. “What the hell were you thinking?!” 

“What was _I_ ―?" he started, high-pitched and squeaky before coughing, trying to get back to his normal register. “What was I supposed to do?! I was just checking in! Making sure you were all right! But you humans interpret every little thing as―"

“Oh, so you were just going along to protect my feelings?! Well, you’re committed, I’ll give you that!” She stalked further into the lounge, suddenly very interested in the semi-organic overlays. 

The Doctor didn’t follow her, hovering by the table with the fuzzy candelabra instead. “I missed you,” he said. “I just wanted to see you. I didn’t mean to... take advantage.” He grimaced, like just saying the phrase was distasteful. “I’m sorry.”

Standing there prodding a stain that had long since set into the surface, he looked so lonely. So pathetically sad.

Donna had always had a soft spot for lost, broken things. It seemed that it hadn’t been watered down by the metacrisis. Or the abandonment. 

_Pity, that._

“Well, you _are_ rubbish on your own,” she said, briskly. “We already knew that. No need to get all weepy about it. And I wouldn’t say you ‘took advantage…’ I know how convincing I can be.” 

Head still angled down, he gave her a nervous, hopeful look through his lashes. “So you’ll… still come?” 

“Oh for― Is this what all of our conversations are going to be like from now on?! I’ve already said yes! What do you want me to do, embroider it on a pillow?!” She stalked over to one of the elaborate settees like she might select one right then and there. 

Cautiously, the Doctor moved closer and perched at the opposite end, still looking ready to bolt. “I’m just… glad you’re back. I _did_ miss you.” 

She tossed a pillow at him. “None of that melodramatic nonsense. I’m back now. You can’t just cry yourself sick in the halls anymore. And there had better not be any macabre shrines in my room!” 

The Doctor laughed, sliding down to sit properly. “Donna Noble, I _missed_ you.” 

She scooted down next to him, nudging her shoulder into his. “I know, Spaceman. Me too.”

He smiled, looking so pleased, and he was so close it was just a matter of tilting her head. She gave him one quick kiss. 

A peck, really. One for the road. 

The Doctor made a soft, surprised noise, but leaned into it, just as he had the other times. 

He pressed into the kiss the same way he sought any other form of contact― enthusiastically and with a surprising level of finesse for someone who acted like an asexual scarecrow. 

The quick peck very quickly became a full-on snog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pretty much concludes the "plot" of this story. Tune in tomorrow for an optional epilogue set immediately after this.


	17. Life After Death (Not so Bad, Really) (NSFW)

Donna pulled back, gulping in air, and realized she was practically straddling the Doctor. He took in a breath like he hadn’t remembered to do that in a while. The phrase ‘respiratory bypass’ flickered in her mind. 

He was so close that she could see the cinnamon rings barely visible around each wide pupil. He was scanning her face as well, searching for something. 

“All right?” she asked, feeling a bit foolish. Like the 900-year-old alien might not know how to turn down a snog. 

He sucked in a breath. “All right with you?” 

“Yeah,” she said. 

“Then yes.” He leaned back in. 

His mouth moved over hers with a soft urgency that curled her toes and made her ache for more. More contact. More feeling. Just more. His tongue flickered out, tasting and then probing. 

Donna worked one hand into his ridiculous hair, and her other hand went to his tie, tugging the knot loose so that she could slip inside his collar. She ran her fingers over his clavicle, feeling the cool skin stretched over sharp bones. 

His mouth moved more earnestly over hers, licking and even nipping lightly. He arched into her, and the hand he’d tangled in her hair tightened, clutching her closer still.His other hand stayed glued to the space between her shoulder blades, in annoyingly neutral territory. 

God, he was such hard work. 

Ever industrious, Donna flipped open a few more buttons on his oxford, stroking a hand over his chest. Muscles jumped under her palm, fine hairs tickling. 

“Still all right?” she thought to check. 

The Doctor managed half a nod, recapturing her mouth and muffling a strange noise he’d started to make in the back of his throat. 

She dropped both hands to work the rest of his buttons, and got a bit distracted exploring the muscles of his torso. She’d half expected him to be literal skin and bones, but it was more of a compact situation, it seemed. He’d been hiding quite a bit under those pinstripes. 

She pulled back, ignoring his inquisitive whine and shoved his stupid jacket off, taking the shirt with it. Finally catching on, he yanked his arms out of the sleeves, and immediately returned his hands to her shoulders.

_Useless._

“You could show a little initiative,” she pointed out. And then just to drive the point home, she pulled her own top off and yanked his hands around to her front, pressing them unsubtly into her chest. 

His fingers flexed, startled, and even that was nice. God, it had been a while. Shockingly, amnesia had not been good for her libido. It certainly felt like it was back in full force now though. 

Donna kissed him again, and he returned it with interest. His hands stroked over her breasts, alternating smooth strokes with gentle pressure. His thumbs swept inside the cups, rubbing, and she moaned.

Just a little. 

When she pulled back to get some air, he dropped his mouth to her neck, licking the lines between tendons. With a quick twist of one hand, he flicked open her bra, tugging it off and tossing it somewhere.

“So you’ve done this before, then,” she said, less of a question, more of a statement. 

“Course I have,” he breathed. “I _am_ over 900 years old, you know.” His head dropped lower, flickering little kitten licks over the tops of her breasts. 

She raked her nails down his pectorals, just hard enough to leave faint lines that took a couple of seconds to fade. “Not a great time to bring up your age,” she advised, panting slightly. “But this means you’re… compatible? With humans?” 

“Oh, sure,” he said, hands alternating palming and cupping in a strangely pleasant rippling motion. “Humans are the ones with cloacas, right? Or is it ovipositors?”

“Doc-tor!” She swatted him. “I’m serious!”

“Don-na!” He seemed to be trying to pout, but couldn’t stop smiling well enough to manage it. “Yes, we’re compatible. Perfectly compatible. Amazingly compatible, you might say.” He rolled his hips into hers, pointedly. 

It certainly didn’t seem like it was going to be an issue from where she was sitting. “Right then. Do we need anything else? I’m already on the pill. Sort of assuming you don’t have space STD’s.”

He blinked. “Obviously I’m not carrying anything and even if I were there’s this mechanism called the species barrier. It means―" 

“Oh, I know what it means!” She smacked the back of his head. Lightly. “Stop bringing up weird stuff like your ridiculous age and species barriers! I’m trying to shag here!” She rocked her hips and ground down, emphatically. 

“Good point, good point,” he over-enunciated, head dropping back, exposing the long line of his throat. She took the opportunity to do some oral investigating of her own. 

The Doctor started making a keening sound, angling back so that she had to brace against his chest. His hands dropped to her trousers, working them open. One hand worked its way in past her knickers while the other traced a line up her side and then back down again.

One long finger stroked up and in and they both groaned. He added another finger, and she could feel each cool, callused pad spreading the moisture. 

“You feel so _hot_ ,” he gasped, voice taking on a scratchy quality she’d never heard. “How can you stand it?”

She bit the junction of his shoulder harder than she meant to and the Doctor spat out a particularly filthy string of Gallifreyan curses. 

“Bloody hell!” she gasped, a bit scandalized. “Have you been saying stuff like that this whole time?! I knew that language filter was a load of― Aah!!” He twisted his fingers, and she cut off with a shriek. “Do that again!” 

He did, rubbing his knuckles around her lips and increasing the pressure of his thumb on her clit. She dropped her head, pressing her face into his shoulder and gasping so hard that she could feel the heat of it on his skin. He set to stroking her open and she fisted a hand in his hair, dragging him into a messy, thoroughly unrefined kiss. 

He didn’t seem to mind her failing technique. His fingers twisted and curled inside of her, like he was mapping that as well. 

After not nearly enough time to be respectable, she came with a surprised sort of cry, stars bursting behind her eyes.

As soon as she caught her breath, her hands were on his flies, working him loose. He caught on much faster than usual, dragging his trousers off and kicking his trainers away. She managed to get her own trousers down and off, finally having to work her way onto somewhat unsteady legs, with no help from the Doctor, who chased every movement with his mouth.

She clamored back on top of him and they both groaned at the feeling of uninterrupted skin on skin. The Doctor set to caressing every new inch of flesh. 

Too impatient to wait, Donna rolled up onto her knees, pressing into his chest and reaching between her legs to position him. 

He didn’t feel any different. A bit longer than average, but no spikes or suckers. Just smooth, slightly cool skin, stretched over insistent, solid flesh. If she pressed just so, she could feel his double pulse against her fingertips. 

“Donna,” the Doctor gasped like he was choking and she realized she’d gotten distracted stroking. 

“Just checking out the equipment,” she said, giving him one last fondle before angling correctly. “I think we can make it work.” 

With no further ado, she sank down, taking him in up to the root. 

The Doctor moaned, sounding almost pained, and dragged her into a messy, misaligned kiss. 

She adjusted her stance, rising up a bit before rocking back down and he groaned again at a higher pitch. After a few more adjustments, she set a languid pace, bracing her elbows on his shoulders. She dug her hands into his ridiculous hair, stroking in time. 

The Doctor thrust up on every downstroke, hands roaming over her sides, gripping the soft flesh at her hips. He made little needy noises under his breath, gasping occasional curses. 

On one particularly enthusiastic upstroke, Donna’s hand slipped, brushing over his temple.

Her fingertips tingled, like she’d touched something electric, and the Doctor yelped, bucking under her. The phrase ‘touch telepath’ surfaced in her mind, linked to intricate social implications. 

“Sorry!” She jerked her hands back. 

The Doctor stared at her, stunned. “Don’t apologize. _Do that again_!” His pupils were huge. “ _Please!_ ” 

Well, if he was going to beg. 

She raised her hands back to his face, settling into a gentler rocking motion so that she could focus. “Like this?” She brushed her middle fingers over his temples.

The effect was instantaneous. His skin tingled under her fingertips and something whispered in the back of her mind, like wind sneaking through a door frame. 

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor breathed, moving his own hands to mirror hers. 

Donna could picture that door, if she focused. It was ancient and vast, but familiar. Light filtered through around it, refracting in the air. 

She wondered what was behind it, and the door swung open.

The Doctor stopped breathing. 

“All right?” she asked, not sure she’d managed to get the words out. They echoed in her own head. 

“Please don’t stop.” The Doctor sounded very far away and very close all at once. 

She followed his voice, imagined sinking into that light.

It was like stepping out onto a bluff in mid-summer high winds.

Thoughts buffeted her, sweeping past, not quite finding purchase. 

It felt _euphoric_. 

She ground down and the Doctor bucked up, taking the rhythm to an insistent pace. 

Images flickered behind her eyes and gained depth; the shift between a two-dimensional drawing and a three-dimensional shape.

“Doctor,” she breathed as the world shifted under her. 

“It’s okay,” his voice sang in her ears, halfway to a language that had long been forgotten. “I’ve got you.” He surged forward, filling her. 

She stepped off the cliff and found she could fly. 

* * *

Donna came back to herself gasping for air. She was on her back, on the spongy rug. The Doctor panted in her ear, his body spread over hers, softening inside of her. Every inch of her thrummed with release. 

“What―" She gulped in oxygen and tried again. “What just―"

“I-don’t-know,” the Doctor gasped, fumbling the words together like he didn’t have enough air to speak them separately. “You-shouldn’t―" He cut off again, sucking in air. “You shouldn’t have been able to do that.” 

Donna felt like she’d just barely escaped drowning. “Shouldn’t be able to do _what_?” She wanted to be more freaked out, but it was a bit hard to manage with the aftereffects of a mind-blowing orgasm humming through every muscle. 

“Connect like that,” he managed, disengaging and rolling to the side, pinning her hand under his head. 

“Ah,” she said, because she couldn’t really think of anything else to say. 

The Doctor seemed to be in a similar state. “We should probably look into that,” he said, not moving. 

“Oh sure,” Donna panted, threading her fingers through his hair. “You go start looking things up. I’ll be along in a minute.” She made absolutely no move to get up and neither did he. 

“Suppose we could look into it later,” he said, with the air of someone conceding a point. 

She flexed her fingers against his scalp and enjoyed the rumbling groan he let out. 

“Later,” she agreed, rolling onto her side. The floor immediately dug into her hip. “First, perhaps a bed.”

He tilted his head back, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “…One bed? Singular?” 

She rolled onto her front, nudging her other hip into his. “I don’t know what your ship is making you sleep in, but _my_ bed is most certainly not a single.”

The Doctor rolled his head toward her and his body followed. A ridiculously disproportionate grin stretched across his face. “Donna Noble, you are without a doubt my favorite human-Time-Lord-hybrid.”

“You’re in my top 10 list of aliens,” she mumbled, fighting a smile. She then groaned and buried her face in his shoulder as another realization hit. 

“Donna?” The Doctor tensed up, sounding wary. 

She just pressed herself in closer, feeling his skin against her eyelids. “Ohhh, we’re going to have to tell Martha and Jack.”

“What?!” he yelped, somehow managing to tense up further. 

“Oh, this is going to be so shaming,” she groaned. 

The Doctor made a series of increasingly indignant noises. “If you want me to work on my technique you could just tell me, you don’t have to bring in a― a― subcommittee!”

Donna looked up, took in his mortified expression and started laughing so hard she had trouble breathing. 

The Doctor tried to sit up, casting about for a throw or something for his dwindling dignity, but Donna just rolled on top of him, still cackling. 

“Oi!” he grumbled, arms coming up automatically, but hovering. 

“I’m not talking about a focus group, you dunce,” she wiped her eyes and tried to contain herself. “I’m talking about us explaining ourselves to our friends.” 

He looked so adorably unsure of himself that she couldn’t quite keep from sneaking a quick kiss, which he immediately melted into. After just a little bit too long to be easily excusable, she broke off grinning, “No notes on _that_ part of your technique.” 

The Doctor pouted, already trying to coax her back down. “What’s with the emphasis on ‘ _that_ ’ part?” 

She wriggled around, trying to find a position where his hip bones didn’t dig into her without much success. “Listen, it was a fine first effort, but I might not always want to do all of the work.” 

“Oh, does that mean you’ll let me be on top next time?” He nudged her over a bit, bending one knee between hers and his annoyingly sharp pelvis magically became much less annoying. 

“Presumptuous.” She circled her hips experimentally. “Maybe if you’re very convincing…” 

Several minutes later, Donna was willing to reconsider her preference for being on top. Sometimes. Occasionally. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m also on [tumblr](https://1-of-those-things.tumblr.com/).


End file.
